


smell the sea and feel the sky

by Thorinsmut



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Animal Death, Attempted Assault, Battle, Blowjobs, Cock-Identified Top, Complete, Dildos, Double Lives, Dyslexia, Execution, Firefight, First Time, Flower Language, Genderfluid Character, Gentle Dom, Guilt, Happy Ending, Homophobia, Human AU, Infidelity, Masturbation, Minor Character Deaths, Multi, Nori is a Little Shit, Pirates AU, Praise Kink, Smut, Talking, Trans Character, Violence, animal injury, brief body dysphoria, brief misgendering, but not really, changes in familial relationships, falls into the awful trope of killing off potential background ladies, fantasies, injuries, lol what is canon, made-up islands, set in the mythical Golden Age of Piracy, sorry - Freeform, swashbuckling, very light D/s dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-28
Updated: 2014-08-04
Packaged: 2018-02-06 14:31:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 31
Words: 65,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1861419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thorinsmut/pseuds/Thorinsmut
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Captain Dwalin - a privateer for the Crown - is in love with beautiful, sweet, innocent Lady Norine.</p><p>His main rival (whom he is most definitely <i>not</i> in lust with) is the cockiest little man he ever met - Captain Vulpes, a pirate with a fast mongrel of a ship and a bad habit of stealing his targets out from under his nose.</p><p>...it's going to take him a <i>while</i> to realize they're the same genderfluid person.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Setting the scene.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome, friends, to the Pirate AU!  
> You can all blame asparklethatisblue for this. We got to talking about the possibilities of this AU and then I had to write it.  
> This AU is set during the mythical 'Golden Age of Piracy', but uses history as only the vaguest of inspirations. There are entire made up islands. Do not expect historical accuracy.  
> This first chapter is just the prologue, I promise we'll get into the swashbuckling action soon enough!
> 
> As always, comments and critiques are much appreciated!  
> <3  
> -Ts

The Island of Sarney was a quiet place. Twin sister to Guernsey in the channel isles, the weather was mild and lovely, the land was rich, and the fishing was good.

The few gentry who owned the island could prosper there, in a _quiet_ sort of way. Dorian Lysa, Esq. – Dori to his friends – might have preferred to prosper in a _less_ quiet way, but considering all his family's other lands had been lost piece by piece until this was the last holding, he knew he was lucky enough to have what he did.

Still, he sat in the garden with a glass of fine wine – Sarney's proximity to France _was_ a benefit – and allowed his mind to wander.

The manor house was solid and in good repair, at least – if a touch small – and the weather was good, and those few servants they had left were competent and loyal to a fault. Dori knew he'd have lost the Sarney holding too without them. A thrifty housekeeper and an honest butler were more than worth their keep, that was certain.

It was just as well Dori was a widower, with no wife to disappoint, and his son and heir – known to all as Ori – had inherited none of his parents' and grandparents' expensive tastes that had left their family _here_. No, Ori was a good lad, quiet and studious, with a mind for numbers that never failed to astonish Dori when he was home from university.

In his lowest moments, Dori comforted himself that Ori might very well be the salvation of their house. Dori himself had begun quietly investing in commerce in hopes of increasing their fortunes, no more than was right for a gentleman – but if Ori took it up, with _his_ mind...

They might no longer be gentry, a family of shipping merchants perhaps; but their family would go on.

They had to. They were, after all, the last of their house – and Dori spent a quiet moment to mourn again for his dear departed sister and her only child.

Who could know what had become of dear sweet Nori, run away to sea so many years ago? Killed, no doubt, when the vessel was taken by pirates. Nori was Dori's ward now, he'd made sure of that, but he had not been able to get Nori's father and stepmother to sign the papers until _after_ Nori was lost to them all. Signed on as a deck hand on that poor doomed merchant vessel – and how cheerful Nori's final letter to him had been, praising the time spent visiting Sarney and learning to sail with the old salts. Such a wild little thing Nori had been, and Dori's sister – a bit of a wild thing herself – had only laughed and encouraged her only child's every impulse.

How hard it had been for Nori, to lose both mother and all that freedom in one fell swoop.

How different might things have been, if Dori's brother-in-law had been made to see reason _before_ Nori took such drastic measures? Dori had little enough income for himself and Ori, but he'd have gladly made it stretch to cover Nori too.

Ah, but bygones were bygones, and Dori sipped his wine and sighed up at the brilliant stars overhead.

As far as his family had fallen since his opulent youth, at least they still had _Sarney_. Dori was glad he'd chosen it as the last holdout, when so much was lost. The weather was always mild and it was a _quiet_ island, lending to a quiet life that did not overly strain an already tight pocketbook. There were few parties expected, and none at all of the lavish affairs that would have ruined him.

It was a quiet and peaceful island – still near enough to mother England to send Ori to the best schools, near enough to France that a few quiet boats trading fine goods back and forth was only inevitable. Sarney's sister island of Guernsey was near enough that an afternoon sail could end in a pleasant society visit, but far enough to keep out of each other's business. The town of Port Gorey thrived with trade from all over the world – and if some of the ships who came in were privateers of the Crown, there was no shame in that. It was legal. Where would the nation be without the private men of war? It didn't bear thinking of – and their goods were excellent and varied, as well. They might be a bit rough around the edges, but they stayed in the town and the countryside was left to its peace.

...and if there were some small, fast ships who came in quick and quiet at night to shelter in hidden coves and caves, bearing no flags... Sarney was a _quiet_ island, and there was no need to make a fuss over it.

After all, they were not preying on _British_ ships, and it was hard to judge any who brought fine goods and trade to the island. They could all use whatever they could get.

Dori made sure his _own_ cove was kept empty, though. No sense letting pirates so close to _his_ home.

Wouldn't want them finding the secret stair his grandfather-many-times-removed had carved into the rocks when he was just beginning to build the family's fortunes, leading right up to the old manor's back gate to unload treasure and goods.

Oh yes, Dori could hardly judge. There were bloodstains on the old family bloodline.

Dori sipped the last of his glass of wine, and sighed again. Sarney, the first of his family's holdings, and the last as well. It was almost enough to make him wish for another pirate in the family to refresh their squandered fortunes.

But _he_ certainly didn't have the temperament for it, and Ori sweet lad – Dori shuddered at the very thought. Of any of them, Nori might have had the stomach for it – but Nori was lost.

Dori _hoped_ that Nori had been killed quickly in the attack. The alternative was too awful to contemplate.


	2. Wolfhound and Fox

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dwalin _hated_ that damn pirate.

Captain Dwalin Tavish was a Privateer for the British Crown. His ship, the Cú Faoil – called affectionately 'the wolfhound' by friends and cursed as 'the cur' by enemies – was fast and light. His quarry never saw him coming. He never missed his targets.

Or that was how it was _supposed_ to be.

Dwalin growled under his breath, watching the thorn in his side sail away again.

 _Vulpes_ , damn pirate – loyal to no one – sailing away on that mongrel the Bloody Gannet.

Dwalin stalked his prey, planned and waited, and the pirate swooped in and took it from under his nose. Spanish gold and goods from the new world, that's what Dwalin was after. He was funded by his half-brother Balin and sanctioned by the Crown and he served the nation by weakening their rival and bringing home treasure.

Vulpes was honorless. He just wanted gold for the gold, the goods for the goods – he took vessels of _any_ nation indiscriminately.

Dwalin hated him. Far too often he had come across vessels already emptied of their cargo. First it was just a name – the pirate Vulpes and the crew of the Bloody Gannet, a strange sailed ship with a fox skull on their Jolly Roger. The pirate Vulpes, a small man with long vivid red hair and a cruel mouth.

“Vulpes... Vulpes? What is he?” Dwalin demanded, “French? Spanish? Portuguese?”

“British.” he was answered, and his crew from every part of the world, shouting all to each other in a dozen languages and efficiently stripping the ship of its cargo. One of their own, turned pirate. It turned Dwalin's stomach.

Vulpes – latin for 'fox', the ship's doctor told Dwalin. Dwalin had never made it that far in school, and had promptly forgotten anything he _had_ once known as useless.

Dwalin had cursed it the first time he saw that mongrel ship. The Bloody Gannet was a small sloop, lean lined. Jamaican make, unless he was mistaken, but the damn pirates had junk-rigged her. Dwalin wouldn't have known _what_ he was seeing, but one of his sailors had been to Hong Kong and mentioned. The sails were uneven set on the masts, braced with battens like a bat's wings. It _should not_ have been such a flexible set, but he'd watched the tail of that ship fly away too many times. She ran goose-winged before the wind as fast as the best square-rigged ship. She sailed as close into the wind as the new versions of lateen sails that were coming out of Bermuda.

She ran before rising gale winds that should have torn them to shreds, dropping sail in flight easy as breathing while Dwalin's own sailors fought to control their own dangerous sails.

She turned far too quickly.

The Bloody Gannet. Well named for the gluttonous greed of her captain, Vulpes.

 _This_ was the closest Dwalin and the Cú Faoil had come to the Bloody Gannet. They were in time to see the crew swarming off their mark, the black flag with the fox skull still raised. They could hear the shouts on the wind as the Spanish merchant was set free, as the strange sails were raised and the Bloody Gannet began accelerating away from them, reaching across the wind.

Dwalin had given chase to them more than once. Even starting this close, he now knew it was hopeless. With her light build and shallow draft, with her maneuverability and her helmsman's suicidal tendency to go places any sensible ship would run aground, there was _no_ way the Cú Faoil could catch her.

They were better off plundering what – if anything – was left on the Spanish ship. The Bloody Gannet was too small to carry _everything_ , especially from a ship this size.

Vulpes would have just taken the _best_ of everything, and Dwalin growled again as he gave the order to let the pirate go.

Again.

Oh, it cut him to the core. It burned hot in the back of his teeth.

He _hated_ that pirate.

This was the closest Dwalin had ever been to Vulpes, and it was not near close enough for a cannon shot. Dwalin would have gladly blown that mongrel ship out of the water without an instant's hesitation.

There, on the high stern of the Pirate's ship. Dwalin lifted his spyglass and snarled under his breath.

Vulpes himself, it _had_ to be.

He stood looking back at Dwalin, indistinct in the distance. A small man, lean as a whip. His eyes were smeared with dark paint, his long red braid flowing out to the side in the wind like a pendant.

...no quarter given beneath the red flag...

Perhaps he saw Dwalin, watching him. Perhaps he was merely a cocky bastard. Whatever the reason, he swept off his black tricorn hat – decorated with an ostentatious plume that could only have come from an ostrich – and bowed deeply.

His mouth was open as he straightened again, his shoulders shaking in a way that had only one interpretation.

He was _laughing_. At _Dwalin_.

Dwalin deliberately lowered his spyglass, tossing it to his first mate Harris so he didn't smash it. His temper always _had_ been too hot for his own good. His hands clenched and he cursed the fact that the pirate was well outside pistol range. It was _far_ too tempting to draw and try to shoot him anyway, but Dwalin resisted.

No need to waste his shot, not when they needed to be preparing to board the Spanish ship. The pirate was gone now, out of their range if not yet out of sight. What mattered was the task at hand.

Dwalin turned to his crew, bellowing his orders to organize them.

He dismissed Vulpes and the Bloody Gannet from his immediate thoughts, but the junk-sailed ship and her laughing captain churned sour in the back of his mind.

Damn pirate.

Dwalin _hated_ him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Bloody Gannet is something akin to a Lorcha  
> http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lorcha_(boat)
> 
> Now with art by Sparkle!  
> http://asparklethatisblue.tumblr.com/post/90278574198/smell-the-sea-and-feel-the-sky-the-pirate-au-has


	3. home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nori comes home

It was late at night, the house very quiet, when Dori was awoken by a pounding on the door. What made it doubly strange was that it was the _back_ door of the manor.

The butler, Smith, would take care of it, Dori knew. He rolled over to try to catch back up on his sleep.

It _bothered_ him, though, that something so uncharacteristic should have happened, so he was awake and alert enough to hear the growing sound of angry voices from the direction of the back door.

Whatever this was, it was not something simple enough that Smith could quiet it up or take care of it in a few dismissive words. Dori rose from his bed, wrapping himself in a dressing robe over his sleep clothes for modesty, and made his way quietly out of his room and toward the back door.

He picked up his longsword along the way. He was too far away to hear words yet, but the tone he was hearing was not _good_. Dori had never been much of a duelist, the rapier was never his strong suite and he was at best a _passable_ marksman. He did not _like_ fighting, but still his strength and skill with the longsword was _not_ to be underestimated if he was pushed to it.

Smith was at the back door, blocking it as he gently tried to talk down to the small man who was equally blocking it from closing. A man of the sea, if Dori had ever seen one. The stranger dressed in ruffled layers and a black tricorn hat with an _ostrich_ plume, of all things.

“I don't want any trouble, but I need to talk to Dorian Lysa.” The man said, a high nasal sneer with the underlying promise that there absolutely _would_ be trouble if he wasn't given what he wanted.

The butler, good man, was only settling himself more firmly in the doorway. Good old Smith, he'd die to protect the family. But he should not have to.

“What is the meaning of this?” Dori demanded, stepping into the circle of light from the lamp. He'd braced for an attack, accusations, _anything_. Instead the stranger's eyes grew huge and begging, sharp-sneering face falling into lines of youthful roundness. The hat was swept off, leaving gleaming-red hair uncovered to catch like rubies in the lamplight.

“Uncle Dori?” the voice was utterly changed, soft and pleading – lips trembling over the words and all that red hair just like his dear departed sister.

“Nori...” Dori breathed, his longsword clattering to the floor. Oh, it _could not be_... “Nori!” he started forward blindly, reaching for his sister's only child. Nori had taken the opportunity of Smith's surprise to push past him and fall into Dori's arms.

Nori was so _small_ in Dori's arms, shaking, and Dori clung as tight as he dared.

“Oh my child!” Dori sobbed, tears had always come too easily to him, “Oh my dear _child_ , you were _lost..._ you were lost.”

Nori just held on tight, smelling of salt air and ship tar and gunpowder, face buried against Dori's neck.

Never, never had he dared to dream that Nori had _lived_ ... He did not know how Nori had lived and found a way home, and in the moment he could not care. Nori had _lived_.

Dori was not sure how much later it was when he finally composed himself enough to push Nori's shoulders back, to search the face he had not seen in so long. Nori was all spots from the sun, as speckled as a gull's egg. Gray-gold eyes with squint wrinkles at the corners met Dori's for a long moment before shifting off to the side, shoulders tensing uncomfortably.

“I... I won't be a burden. I didn't come empty-handed.” there was some of that hard sneer back in Nori's tone, turning back toward the door and the shocked Smith. The butler remembered Nori, of course, but the Nori he remembered was _very_ different from this one.

“Shush...” Dori soothed, drawing Nori back, cradling that strange but familiar face between his palms, “ _You_ came home, we don't need more than that. You're _never_ a burden.”

Nori's lips trembled again, reaching up to cup Dori's cheek in a work-toughened hand. Dori gently pulled Nori back in, resting their foreheads together.

“You came _home_.” Dori repeated, still so astonished that it was _real_. Nori had only ever come to visit, never been able to stay long, but had always called Sarney and the manor _home_. They'd both tried to make it true after Nori's mother died...

“I _did_ bring presents.” Nori said eventually, voice soft and quiet again, smiling a little. _That_ was how it ought to be – a joy and not an obligation. Dori did not prevent it when Nori left to lean around Smith and whistle out the door.

In a few heartbeats two very brown sea men came in, heavy black and silvered-black hair in braids, carrying between them a heavy cask and several tightly wrapped bundles Dori hadn't the slightest idea what might be. Nori spoke to the sailors in a language Dori did not know, and they both smiled.

The cask _thumped_ heavily when they put it down.

“That's Spanish gold from the new world.” Nori said brightly, “I've got more gold too – we'll bring it up from my ship later. Silks, spices, sugar, _tea_...” Nori reached into one of the bundles and retrieved a tin, pressing it into Dori's hands hopefully.

“Oh...” Dori said, more than a little overwhelmed, accepting the tin.

“And this is Bifur and Bofur!” Nori introduced, “Bifur, Bofur, my Uncle Dori.” There was no disguising the happiness and pride in Nori's tone.

“These two are my right hand. Best men I've ever met, couldn't do it without them.” Nori continued, “They're cousins, Malay and Portuguese. Bifur's my quartermaster and Bofur's chief carpenter and first mate.”

“Pleased to meet you.” Bofur said, smiling broadly. Bifur nodded gravely.

“Likewise...” Dori hadn't forgotten his manners, as unexpected as this all was. Bifur waved his hands oddly, and Bofur nodded.

“We'll leave you be, Cap'n.” Bofur said, heading out of the door with Bifur in tow. Smith closed the door behind them firmly, as though more sailors might try to burst their way in if he did not.

 _Captain_?

“Captain?” Dori said, utterly lost. Nori grinned, bowing deeply.

“Cap'n Vulpes o' the Bloody Gannet.” the sneer was back in Nori's voice, “Gentleman and pirate... at your service.” there was something mocking in Nori's tone, but Dori could _see_ the worry in those bright eyes. Nori _still_ thought Dori might change his mind.

“Captain...” Dori breathed, the hand that was not still clutching the tin coming up to cover his mouth. He'd never dreamed, even if Nori had survived... _Captain_ of a pirate ship...

His dear sister's only child, such a wild thing. Little Nori had always admired the finest things in life. Sometimes Nori had been happy to dress in the most beautiful of dresses and Dori's mother's pearls and sit at Dori's knee to have tea as the most composed little lady he could imagine. Other times Nori would be found having stolen trousers from some unlucky laundry line – clambering over cliffs searching for gull eggs – swimming in the cove and fighting with stick swords with the other boys who hadn't realized _who_ Nori was.

Dori could still remember that final letter, when Nori told Dori – and no one else – about the plan to run away to sea. He still reread it sometimes, thought the paper grew old and brittle.

“ _I feel I_ must _be a man, Uncle Dori. I will suffocate if I must play the part of a lady. All those years running wild on Sarney will serve me well! I have a contact who says I can sign up as a deck hand on one of their family ships – since I already know my way around a sail. It will be hard work, but I will be a_ man _. I will die if I must be a lady, to marry and submit and bear heirs for some man as Father and stepmother demand._

_I cannot bear it. I must be free or I will die._

_Please, I beg you, tell none of this to anyone. Do not tell Father where I have gone._

_I am a man, Dori. I hope that you, of anyone, could understand. I never have made a good Lady. You always loved me, can you love me still? I hope that you know that I have always loved you too. I hope that you will accept me if ever I make my way home to Sarnay. I will bring you the finest teas of China, the richest silks, the rarest spices._

_Look for me on the trade winds,_

_Always your_

_Nori_

Dori had not understood, really... He loved Nori as his own but he did not understand... but maybe now he could. He could look at Captain Vulpes with the sneering smile and he could see a man – and one who'd likely done terrible things to get the goods he was now giving Dori.

Oh, the bloodstains on their bloodline were not growing any fainter, because Dori would not - _could_  never - turn Nori away.

“Your mother would be _so_ proud of you.” Dori managed, and Nori was all gentle eyes and hopeful smiles again. His sister _would_ have been proud, all she had ever wanted was for Nori to be happy. Dori had been _so afraid_ for Nori when the ship had been taken by pirates, of what they might _do_ if Nori were discovered, but they must not have. Nori must never have been known as anything but a man.

Nori stepped forward again, cupping Dori's hand and the tin he held.

“I know it's the wrong time for it... it's late... but can we have tea?” Nori asked, “I've been thinking of it for so long...”

Looking into those big begging eyes, Dori could never say no.

“Of course.” he smiled. The servants would take care of the goods Nori had brought, put away Dori's longsword.

Dori took Nori's hand and lead the way.

 

“Vulpes, really?” Dori asked, and Nori laughed.

“Seemed to fit.” Nori explained, “Lysa... it sounds like the word for fox in Russian. So it's in the family name. If... _can_ I use your name? I won't use _his_.” Nori's face turned hard and sneering again at the end.

Nori's father never _had_ understood his child, nor much tried to. Dori could understand Nori's desire to break with him, to cleave to Dori's side.

“Of course.” Dori soothed. “I... after you were gone, I got them to sign the papers. I am your legal guardian now... not that _you_ need much guarding, Captain.”

Nori had smiled at that, sitting up straighter.

Nori had sat casually at first, a vulgarly masculine sprawl on Dori's delicate chairs... but as the tea and crisp little biscuits were delivered, Nori's manner changed.

By the time the tea had steeped and Dori poured it into the finest china cups Nori was sitting as prim as you like.

Nori sipped the tea delicately and smiled at Dori.

“I remember this,” Nori said softly, “I _loved_ to sit with you – tea and cakes and tiny sandwiches, listening to the grown-ups talk. You let me wear grandmother's pearls if I promised to be very good...”

Dori smiled too at the memory.

“I think...” Nori looked down at hands cradling the teacup, gentle with the delicate china. “I have been thinking about this so much. I never thought I wouldn't want to be a man?”

“I _love_ my life.” Nori was quick to assure Dori, “I love the sea and the Gannet and my crew... but I... _sometimes_ I miss perfumes and lace and being a pretty girl so much I can't _breathe_.”

Nori looked up at Dori with a wry little smile, “Do you think I could... most of the time I'll be a man, Nori known as Captain Vulpes... but could I sometimes come home and be your little Norine in pretty dresses again? I'm no maiden, you know, and I _won't_ be courted and married off but... could I? Is that possible?”

Oh, Dori did not have any answers, that was certain. He had no guide for how to respond to this – Nori who had become a man but did not wish to be one always.

How could he answer? _Could_ that be possible?

Could it be possible for gentle-born Nori, hardly more than a child, to run away to sea and return as a pirate Captain with gold that might very well be their house's salvation? It hardly seemed likely, but here they both were.

“My dear child.” Dori smiled, reaching over to take Nori's hand in his own, “I hardly think there's anything you _couldn't_ do if you had a mind to. I will help any way I can."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art by Sparkle that will now be relevant to the AU:  
> http://asparklethatisblue.tumblr.com/post/89281530283/pirate-au-designs-with-nori-either-being-the


	4. peace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nori settles in

It took a _lot_ to outfit a Lady in the proper fashion.

Even though Nori had brought gold and silks, Dori was not sure he'd have been able to cover it all if Ori hadn't come home on a visit and had a few _ideas_ how to turn the Spanish gold into money they could _spend_. It was an ingenious little system and Dori would be first to admit he did not understand it all, but Ori assured him that there would be nothing suspicious to tip anyone off if they happened to go through the books. Everything was accounted for, in tiny increments, from a thousand different places.

Finding a ladies maid for Nori was the first thing, which the housekeeper provided in the form of 'Our Jenny', her niece. She'd played dollies with Nori when they were both just past crawling. She'd recently lost her position, and was keen to start another.

Servants talk, everyone knew that, but Dori could only trust that they understood how much of a scandal it would be if Nori's double life were discovered. He could only trust in their loyalty to the family to keep things quiet.

Nori liked Jenny, though. She was a solid girl, and her only comment after assisting Nori with a bath and measuring her for clothes was that her dresses were going to have to have long sleeves.

Outfitting Nori as a lady was not easy. Normally a Lady did not need _all_  new things at once. Luckily there were still a few things belonging to Dori's sister stored away in cedar trunks, and that with a few cast-away items from other Ladies on the island was enough to construct the first few changes of clothes for Nori.

Lace gloves were essential, to cover work-roughened hands, and powder for her spots, and Nori was ready to be measured for more tailored clothes.

There were a few things commissioned from the tailor in Port Gorey right there on Sarney, and a few from over on Guernsey. They even sent Nori's measurements to the finest tailors in London to order dresses in the latest fashion.

...and if _some_ of Nori's clothes were constructed in the French cut and style, well... France was not far away and never let it be said that Dori's French was anything but impeccable. Nori's had grown a touch _rough_ for a Lady, but not so much so that a little Spanish gold couldn't commission a tailor, or a milliner, or cobbler – all of the highest caliber.

Many things needed to be done before Nori's presence in the manor could become known, and in the mean time there was the ship to take care of.

The Bloody Gannet was a lovely little ship, Dori thought. He might have liked to try her out, if she weren't a pirate vessel and could sail where she liked. She was careened in the cove for repairs – nothing too serious, just routine wear and tear. Nori often joined his men as Captain Vulpes, throwing his shoulder in scraping barnacles and tarring the tiniest cracks. Dori watched, sometimes, and Nori _did_ seem happy among his crew. They were from every part of the world, shouting back and forth a dozen languages, laughing and singing. Nori moved among them easily, trading affectionate touches. It was clear, by the way they _listened,_ that his crew had a profound respect for Nori.

They were rough fare, all of them, but not nearly as coarse as Dori would have expected of pirates.

“I'm careful who I let on my ship.” Nori told Dori, “And Bifur's pickier than I am.”

Bifur – despite being mute – did not seem to have any trouble making himself understood. He spoke with his hands, and his cousin Bofur translated for him for those who did not know that language. He was often in conference with Nori.

Dori had wondered about the nature of Nori's relationship with the quartermaster, after seeing Nori kiss him on the cheek more than once.

Nori had laughed at that, his expression the sharp sneer of the pirate, “Bifur's been like a _father_ to me.” Nori explained, expression softening as a similar kiss was pressed to Dori's cheek, “Almost as good as _you_ have been.”

It was hard to imagine it, seeing Captain Vulpes among his crew, but Nori was a lovely Lady. Jenny and a pretty dress worked magic. The pirate swaggered into a room, throwing a saucy wink at Jenny that made the maid blush despite herself as she closed the door behind them. Lady Norine in her finery walked out of it.

It was not just a dress, not just beautifully tended hair and face powdered to pale perfection. Nori would never wear her stays tight enough to have a truly fashionable silhouette, and was past the first budding of youth, but she carried herself with _elegance_ as a Lady. Dori could see his own mother behind her gray-gold eyes.

Sarnay was a quiet island, so Dori did not have to know how Nori might have responded in the now-unfamiliar environment of a ball or other more formal engagements. There were only small meetings among the few gentry of the channel islands, and Nori did well with those. She was quiet – an attentive listener as a Lady ought to be.

She stayed close to Dori, or Ori when he was visiting.

There was, of course, curiosity about where Norine had _been_ these past years. Dori let it be known only that she had been abroad and did not wish to speak of it, that she was visiting Sarnay for her health. With that and Nori's perceived shyness, people were free to make up their own tragic stories for her.

The most popular theory seemed to be that she had eloped to the Indies or some other Crown colony, but was now widowed.

Such talk would have worried Dori if Nori were seeking a husband... but as that was not at all what Nori wanted, it did not worry him. Let people talk, so long as they did not strike too closely to the truth.

And the truth was strange enough they were not likely to.

From what Dori heard among the servants they had begun talking as though there were two different people – 'our Lady Norine' and 'our pirate' – and never the twain shall meet. Dori's was certainly not the _only_ estate on Sarney that was visited by a pirate on occasion, so he doubted this would cause much comment. It was something everyone knew to keep quiet about.

Soon enough the Bloody Gannet was fully repaired. Nori conferenced with the crew down in the cove – drinking wine from the bottle and laughing around a fire late into the night – and sent them off with Bifur in command.

Just for a few months.

“Best you don't know.” was all Nori would say about _where_ they'd gone, and Lady Norine settled into the manor for a season.

It was _good_ to have her. Nori had always had a fine mind, just like Dori's sister, and it was good to have someone to discuss literature and business with in the evenings.

Sometimes – particularly when Ori was visiting – they would all sit drinking port and Nori would tell tales of the world. It was not particularly _ladylike_ for Nori to take port with them, but... well... there was little Dori could do to dissuade once Nori's mind was made up.

“The world is round, and I sailed all the way around it.” Nori would say, eyes bright, before starting a tale of peoples met, sights seen – ships fought and treasures taken. The heavy atlas in the library was updated with copies of Nori's hand-drawn maps, each carefully signed with VPS in an elegant hand.

“For Vulpes.” Ori smiled, looking them over, and Nori smiled back. Nori was always more than happy to tell a story of anywhere Ori could point on a map – thought Dori _had_ noticed that some details from Nori's personal maps did not make it onto the family copies.

It did concern Dori slightly that young Ori's fascination with Nori might lead him hope for an inadvisable relationship with his cousin, but there was no sign that they considered each other as anything but family. Nori in particular treated Ori as one might a particularly entertaining puppy. Maybe Ori realized Dori's worry, slight as it was – he'd always been a clever lad – but he mentioned to Dori how much he liked to have Nori as a sister.

The two of them did seem to get on well. Ori loved Nori's tales of the sea, and Nori enjoyed talking with Ori about his studies – about Latin and philosophy and literature.

It was good to have Nori in the manor. It kept the place lively.

And Nori was _alive_ , and happy, and had returned to them with a small fortune with promises to return with more.

They talked, and they visited with the other gentry, and Nori showed every sign of enjoying being a Lady.

And everything was good.


	5. the Lady

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dwalin is on Sarnay

The Cú Faoil was in dry dock, being repaired and taking on fresh supplies. Her crew were taking their ease in the friendly town of Port Gorey on Sarnay.

Dwalin was bored. He _agreed_ with Balin that this was a good place to meet, a fine base of operations, but there was only so much to _do_. He was not interested in most of the entertainments available.

There was always something to _do_ aboard a ship. Dwalin was at a bit of a loss on land, having spent more of his life at sea. Even his gait was wrong, compensating for the rocking of a ship that _wasn't_. It always took him a few days to stop stumbling into everything.

At least the worst of _that_ was over.

Dwalin was sprawled out on a crate at the docks, keeping an eye on the Cú Faoil and having a smoke, the first time he saw _her_.

She was a _Lady_ , of the finest sort, and came sailing in on one of the small pleasure crafts the gentry used to visit each other. She stood as proudly as a figurehead, her balance perfect on the swaying boat – a _queen_ of the sea.

She disembarked gracefully, her hair all powdered up in soft curls atop her head, her long neck unadorned by any jewel – needing none. Her lace parasol threw intricate shadows across her smooth bare shoulders. Her dress shimmered, gleaming apricot and gray silk. Her bodice was a long line, smoothly tapered up, perfect to press up and accent the soft-globe roundness of...

Dwalin tore his eyes away, ashamed. Such a Lady was _far_ too good to have the likes of _him_ casting his filthy gaze upon her cleavage.

But he could not look away from her entirely. Dwalin's eyes followed her, though more carefully. Her face was not so round as might be described for a classic beauty, but then those describing a classic beauty were _wrong_ because they were not describing _her_. Her lightly rouged lips were curved slightly in a smile, as though the entire world was her own private amusement. She delicately placed the fingertips of her lace-gloved hand on her companion's arm.

She was taller than her companion – just slightly. A round gentleman with carefully coiffed silver hair.

“That _was_ lovely, Uncle Dori, but I cannot help but think that....” she said as they walked past together, anything more lost to the bustle of the docks. Her voice was huskier than he'd have expected, a carefully tempered mellowness that spoke to Dwalin somewhere deep in his _bones_.

Dwalin's eyes followed her as long as he was able, delicately swaying around the worst of the dock's muck to stay clean.

An untouchable angel among men – and then she was gone.

Dwalin slowly closed his mouth, feeling the blood rush to his face as he realized he had been staring at her with it hanging open.

His pipe had gone out, giving him nothing as he tried to settle himself with a puff on it.

Oh she had been... she had been...

He did not even have _words_ for her.

 

“Balin, I will die.” Dwalin announced himself, and his elder half-brother looked up from his working desk with a raised eyebrow and a small smile.

“We all die, brother.” Balin answered, “God willing, your time will not come for many years.” Good old Balin. He'd always been kind and patient with his clumsy ox of a half-brother, the child of their father's later years – unless you listened to the rumors that said Dwalin looked _far_ more like a laborer than his mother's husband. Balin never had. He'd always called Dwalin _brother,_ stood by him, going so far as to sponsor him as a privateer when Dwalin nearly got himself killed in the Royal Navy. Dwalin was incapable of standing aside to watch officers abuse their crews.

Balin was clever. He'd always been there to help Dwalin, he would do so now.

“I have seen an _angel_.” Dwalin explained patiently, “She is... Oh, she is...” Dwalin waved his hands, unable to express the glory of the Lady, “I will die if I do not know her name.”

“Have you tried _asking_?” Balin chuckled, making a small note in his ledger.

“No, no, Balin. No.” Dwalin ran his fingers through his wild mess of hair, “She is a _Lady_. You cannot just... accost a Lady and _ask_.” No, she was too good to be approached in the street that way. Dwalin wanted to punch anyone who would _dare_. She was a _goddess_ , so far above mere _men_.

“A Lady?” Balin mused.

“I need to know her name.” Dwalin pleaded. Balin's blue eyes looked up at him mildly.

“Dwalin – you cannot expect me to _know_ of whom you speak, with no description other than that she is a Lady?”

“The most _beautiful_ of Ladies.” Dwalin corrected.

“That is largely a matter of opinion.” Balin said, a smile playing with his lips as he made another note in his ledger, “Can you give me _any_ useful details.”

“She had a lace parasol... and her hair all done up in powder... a silk dress in gray and apricot...” Dwalin remembered, sighing at the recollection of her. “She sailed in on a little boat... and her companion, a small older gentleman with hair as white as yours, she called him 'uncle Dori'.”

Balin thoughtfully tapped at his lips with the feathered tip of his quill as Dwalin spoke, finally brightening at the last detail.

“That would be Dorian Lysa, he has a manor here on Sarnay.” Balin said, “Which would make your Lady his ward, Norine – who has also taken her uncle's surname.”

“Lady Norine.” Dwalin breathed. Oh, he would carry that name in his heart.

“I have not _heard_ that she is exceptionally handsome.” Balin mused.

“Then you've heard _wrong_.” Dwalin defended. He _would not_ hear a word against the Lady.

“Peace, brother.” Balin soothed, returning to his ledger thoughtfully. “Sit and I will tell you what I have _heard_ , whether it is right or no.”

Dwalin sat, tucking his big hands between his knees to keep them still.

“She's only come recently to the island again, though she visited often as a child.” Balin started quietly, “There was some sort of a scandal with her father – that Dorian has taken her as ward, and she refusing her father's name... she is _considered_ to be an old maid. Unmarriageable.”

“No man is good enough for her.” Dwalin protested gruffly.

“Be that as it may, there have been _rumors_.” Balin continued smoothly, “She has been abroad... there may well have been an elopement. She _may_ be a widow.”

“No.” Dwalin said.

“The family _have_ been very close about her past...” Balin started, “They have denied nothing...”

“No.” Dwalin said again, “I don't... I don't listen to rumors.” He could feel his shoulders tensing up and lifting, for all his experience turning back into a too-big adolescent hiding his workman's hands between his knees, trying to look smaller. He _would not_ hear cruel speculation about the Lady.

“Of course not.” Balin said, his eyes softening as he glanced over his ledger at Dwalin. “She is a _pleasant_ Lady, from all accounts.” He made a few more notes on the page before setting his quill aside and gently dusting the page to set the ink before he closed it.

“Dorian Lysa has a few small mercantile investments.” Balin offered, “A few words in a friend's ear to travel to his, and we _may_ be able to secure you an invitation to the manor to meet her for yourself!”

Dwalin's gut twisted at the thought, even as his heart leapt at the possibility.

“No.” he said, stumbling over his words, “She's a _Lady_ , and I'm... no. I can't.”

“A gentlewoman she might be...” Balin said, straightening his cuffs in front of Dwalin and then reaching out to smooth the lines of Dwalin's jacket over his shoulders, “But her family is an _impoverished_ gentry. A merchant's sons we might be, but we are wealthier than they are. It's a new world, the middle class is rising! She could do worse than to sit at supper with Captain Tavish of the Cú Faoil.”

Dwalin swallowed hard. Balin _always_ knew the way to use words to make his own view seem like the right one.

“It need not be more than that.” Balin soothed, “Nothing more than a chance to see her again, to know her better.”

“I'll make a fool of myself.” Dwalin promised. He'd use the wrong fork or do things in the wrong order or say the wrong thing. He just knew it. He always did. He never could remember how things were supposed to go.

“Then you may have the joy of making her laugh.” Balin pointed out. “Now shall we go put a word in his solicitor's ear?”

Dwalin breathed deep, his shoulders fallen back down into relaxation from Balin's tending. The thought of seeing _her_ laugh, even if it was at _him_...

He nodded, and followed Balin out of his offices.


	6. saxifrage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the meeting

By the time Nori found out that Captain Tavish of the Cú Faoil was coming to join them for supper, it was far too late to do anything about it. The appointment was set.

“He _knows_ me.” Nori hissed to Dori, heart pounding, “He's _hunted_ me.”

“Hush, child.” Dori soothed with a gentle smile, “How he may feel about some _pirate_ has nothing to do with _you_.”

He did have a point, that Norine the gentlewoman looked very little like Captain Vulpes, but Nori was still worried. It was one thing to meet a rival as a man at sea, with the finest ship and crew for support – another entirely to meet _here_ , as a woman.

Jenny, good woman, said nothing as she helped Nori stash two big knives between her stays and bodice – making sure Nori could easily draw them. The thought of facing Captain Tavish, the wolfhound, armed with only the little folding knife she kept up her sleeve –  _not_  at all Nori's idea of fun.

“No, Jenny, I _can't_.” Nori said, her face nudged back into place as Jenny finished powdering her hair – pale blue today, to match the accents on her dress. “He'll recognize me, and I can't fight in this dress!”

“Milady, he would not believe it even if he thought he _did_ recognize you.” Jenny soothed, and Nori stilled, in everything except her hands twisting together in her lap.

Nori's face looked back in the mirror, primped and powdered to perfection, artfully painted brows drawing together in worry. Nori had been _enjoying_ playing at being a Lady, luxury and beauty, but it was a stranger's face looking back now. The two worlds Nori lived in were not _supposed_ to collide this way, and Nori _desperately_ wished for nonrestrictive trousers and pistols – a fast ship beneath him and a loyal crew behind him.

The dress pinched him, stays crushing as Nori tried to _breathe_ – fought not to tear the entire ensemble off and steal the first possible ship to go find the Bloody Gannet where he'd sent Bifur off with it.

“Here.” Jenny said, and Nori's thoughts were wrenched back to the moment as something heavy was placed in his hands.

The smallest of the pistols Nori usually carried, a turn-off style. Long-range and accurate with a deadly punch. Nori clung to it like it was the only anchor in the world.

“We'll make a quick hole in your chemise.” Jenny said, “And we'll strap this to your leg. You can reach through the pocket slit in your skirt and get it if you need it. Will that do, milady?”

“Oh, Jenny...” Nori could nearly cry for gratitude. It was just one shot, but one good shot was all it took.

“None of that, you'll smear all my hard work.” Jenny chastised softly, lifting Nori's skirt, and Nori helped her strap a holster to her right thigh. It took a little adjusting of holster, chemise, crinoline, and dress, but they got a new pocket hole in Nori's chemise that let her draw her pistol. It wasn't the _fastest_ draw, but it _would_ be unexpected. That would make the difference.

A single loaded pistol should be enough, if things went poorly.

So armed, Nori let Jenny fasten a light collar of pearls around her neck and sailed out of her rooms to go meet Dori and wait for the wolfhound.

 

The wolfhound was a big man, Nori knew that from his reputation and from seeing him in a spyglass, but meeting him was different. His thick beard was neatly trimmed and waxed. He had made attempts with his coarse brown hair, had it tied back in a queue, but it was still escaping everywhere. Gold rings gleamed from his earlobes, marking him as different from an officer of the Royal Navy.

He was as big and broad in the shoulders as the field laborers Nori and Jenny would tease each other over when they spotted them working shirtless.

From the moment Captain Tavish rose from his deep – if slightly clumsy – bow and his eyes met Nori's, she knew she did not need her pistol or knives after all. He looked at Nori with soft, brown, sad-hound pleading eyes. He looked at Nori as though he were looking at a work of art he was afraid he would tarnish – and that was _novel_. Nori was not sure _anyone_ had ever looked at her like that before.

It was very clear he did not recognize Nori as Captain Vulpes.

Nori allowed herself a small ladylike smile as she stepped forward to offer him her hand. She had practiced tricks, touching just lightly and with the tips of her fingers to disguise hands too strong and broad from work for a Lady, but against a hand the size of his she did not _need_ them.

He held her fingertips gently, leaning over her hand as though he would kiss it before thinking better of it.

“Lady Norine.” he greeted quietly, and he said it as though the sounds of her name were holy.

“Captain Tavish.” Nori answered, curtseying slightly.

“Just Dwalin, please.” He requested, as though it were an automatic response to his title. His eyes widened as he realized what he had said, who he had said it to, puppy eyes begging to know if he had done wrong.

Dwalin _clearly_ was not comfortable in this kind of setting. It was refreshing, in a world where Nori was almost always the one unsure of their place. Oh, this was going to be fun.

“Then _you_ must call me Nori, Dwalin.” Nori instructed, taking mercy on him. Though, it might not have been mercy. He looked dumbstruck at the invitation to such informality.

“If you will follow me, Captain?” Dori said, interrupting the moment before it could grow awkward, “I hope you will forgive us for serving a _simple_ meal. We do not hold with much ceremony, here.”

“I am a man of simple tastes.” Dwalin assured him, hardly looking at him before his eyes were back on Nori. It was oddly gratifying.

“Your arm, Dwalin?” Nori requested, and had the pleasure of watching his face flush as she delicately placed her lace-gloved hand on his proffered elbow. It was almost enough to go to her head.

His arm was powerful – clearly not the kind of Captain who sat back while his crew did all the work. Nori had to remind herself to be ladylike and not squeeze it. Dwalin was _tall_ , even with her tall heeled boots he towered.

Nori always _had_ liked that in a lover.

...not that Lady Norine would be taking lovers. Too complicated.

But Captain Vulpes would eat him _alive_. A shame they'd never met properly.

It was an intimate family meal Dori had invited Dwalin to, and he was clearly watching them both carefully for clues how he was supposed to behave. He did begin to relax when Dori got him telling stories of being a privateer, ships he'd taken and places he'd seen. Some of them Nori was _very_ familiar with.

After dinner, Nori stayed to talk and sip a little port with Dori and Dwalin – not terribly proper of her.

“I am _terribly_ unladylike.” Nori confessed to Dwalin, who rushed to assure her that she _was_. Oh, he did not have the first idea.

Dwalin was urged into telling another story, but broke off mid tale – abandoning his sailors fighting their sails in a gale – blushing and ducking his head bashfully.

“I am boring you, my lady.” He said, “You do not care for the details of a ship's sailing.”

“Do go on, Dwalin.” Nori urged, reaching over to gently rest her fingertips on his arm. “I _have_ been abroad and I've been playing on ships since I was a child. I _know_ the jib from the mainsail, you aren't boring me.”

She glanced toward Dori, who did seem to have glazed over a bit. “But perhaps we will spare poor Uncle Dori. Will you take a turn about the garden with me before it grows too late?”

Dwalin blushed again, gazing at her as though she had hung the moon in the sky as he offered her his arm again.

“Now...” Nori prompted as she began to lead him on a nice walk through the gardens, “Your sailors were fighting a loose sheet on the deck, deadly to all...”

Nori smiled as Dwalin picked his story back up. Really, he wouldn't have been in such a situation at _all_ if he hadn't been chasing the Bloody Gannet so hard – or if he had the more sensible junk rig.

But Nori said none of that, and they walked together through the garden.

.

“She is _perfection_.” Dwalin sighed. “We walked in the garden, and then we sat in the drawing room and she read to me.”

“Mhmm.” Balin answered tiredly, still going over his books though it was so late.

“She read me Chaucer.” Dwalin continued, “...no one ever _told_ me Chaucer was beautiful.”

“You were never much of one for literature.” Balin answered.

“ _She_ never read it to me before.” Dwalin contended, “I would sit at her feet and listen to her read until the stars cease their orbits... I would be her _dog_ , Balin.”

Balin began chuckling at that, and Dwalin felt his face heating.

“I _would_.” he defended, “She is worthy of better.”

“I am not laughing at you, brother.” Balin soothed, “I never thought to see _you_ so taken with a lady as to be driven to poetry.”

Dwalin grumbled slightly, but his mood was too good to be spoiled. He smiled down at the little flower Lady Norine had plucked and tucked into his buttonhole as they walked.

“I am glad she did not disappoint in person.” Balin said.

“She was very kind, and patient with me.” Dwalin answered, “I will _treasure_ the memory.”

“Merely patient with you?” Balin asked, a smile still in his voice, “Get the... dictionary of flowers, there in the corner. See if you can't find _Saxifrage_.”

Dwalin might have argued, but he was in too good a mood. He got the instructed book from the corner of the library and thumbed through it carefully. Balin always had reasons for what he instructed, even if reading never had been Dwalin's strong point. Balin could have found the entry much faster, but Dwalin did eventually land on Saxifrage.

Mossy Saxifrage. Right there on the page was a neat-lined illustration of the very flower Dwalin had on his lapel.

“What does it say for meanings?” Balin asked, though from his tone he already knew.

“To... ep... no, ex press... express. At...” Dwalin closed one eye, placing his thumb over part of the word to make the letters hold _still_. “Aff ect ion. Affection!?”

Dwalin gaped at the dictionary, at Balin chuckling over his books, at the pretty little flower his Lady had given him.

“Affection...” he breathed. “Balin, how do I _answer_? How do I tell her 'loyalty' and... and 'devotion'. Oh, she is _perfect_ , she is too good for me...”

Balin shook his head, “There is a florist here in Port Gorey, I suggest you commission _him_ to construct a modest bouquet to deliver to your Lady in the morning.”

Dwalin breathed a happy sigh of relief that he would not have to go digging through the flower dictionary himself. Affection. Lady Norine walked with him and felt _affection_.

“In the mean while...” Balin continued, flapping a bit of paper at Dwalin, “Here is a piece of scrap paper to use if you intend to press that flower. Don't go staining my books with it!”

“Thank you, Balin.” Dwalin smiled, accepting it.

 _Affection_.

.

“The _look_ on the gardener's _face_.” Jenny giggled, still not over it, and Nori couldn't help but smile with her.

“I don't know what he expected.” Nori answered, mock severe, “I _asked_ for a safe place to discharge a pistol, what did he think I was going to do once he gave me one?”

“ _Where_ did you have that on you?” Jenny cried, imitating the gardener's boggle-eyed stare.

“A Lady never tells.” Nori answered serenely, and Jenny erupted with giggles again.

“Oh, milady.” She smiled, “I'd hate to see the man who spurned _you_... not that you had that problem this evening...” she coaxed.

Nori could feel her cheeks heating – and with her powder all washed off for the night it would show. It had been _fun_ to be seen and admired, wanted, as a Lady. On her own terms. It was not something Nori had ever had.

“You _liiiked_ him.” Jenny teased, helping putting Nori's hair up in a cap for the night.

Nori laughed – despite herself, really.

“I did.” she admitted, “Oh, the _things_ I would do to that man...”

“Go on.” Jenny urged, blushing herself, “Tell.”

Nori didn't need a second invitation. “I'd like him kneeling at my feet.” Nori's knees spread, indicating the space between them, “Lift my skirts and...” Nori mimed drawing a head forward to her sex, arched her hips up, “Let him _feast –_ lick and suck and polish the pearl until I convulsed with pleasure.”

Jenny's face was bright red, but she nudged Nori's arm, urging for more.

“Twice.” Nori added.

“Milady...” Jenny tittered.

“But only if he was good.” Nori specified. “Technique is important, and following instructions.”

“Then... would you reward his service?” Jenny blushed.

“And then...” Nori pondered, remembering again the breadth of Dwalin's shoulders, his height, the strength of his hands.

Oh, yes.

“And then, if he was _very_ good, and he _begged_ me... I'd bend him over the bed and fuck him. Bugger him with my wooden cock until he _cried_ for pleasure before I let him spend.”

That... that had come out _all_ pirate, Nori's lips twisting up into Vulpes' cocky sneer. There was _nothing_ like having a bigger man that way...

“Oh, you wild thing.” Jenny flapped her apron to cool her face, “Now off to bed with you before you corrupt me further.”

Nori was still fantasizing about it when Jenny snuffed out the lamp and left.


	7. visiting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rest of Dwalin's shore leave.

Apparently, having been invited to dine with one set of gentry and not making _too_ big a fool of himself opened the door for Dwalin to be invited to _more_ functions.

He had, with the help of the florist, sent Lady Norine a small bouquet of statice with a single moss rose bud within – loyalty and devotion – and this apparently was a suitable response. He had been invited to a walk and picnic luncheon along the cliffside with Dorian and Lady Norine and a few other of the Sarnay gentry just a few days later.

Dwalin had volunteered to carry the heaviest of the baskets, and it had been a very enjoyable meal out in the sun. There had been sweet french wine and all the food was made to be eaten with fingers so there were no utensils to get wrong. He only had to be sure he did not take too big of bites and spill crumbs or take too much.

And the Lady had sat beside him on the blanket.

Dwalin had not been able to keep up with the conversation between the gentry – they had apparently all read a book in common and had differing opinions on it – but he peeled several boiled eggs for Norine and she _smiled_ at him.

That alone was enough for him. Her eyes were so bright, reflecting the gray of the sea and the yellow-green of the grasses until he could get lost trying to find all the colors in them. He would be more than happy to just sit beside her forever in the hope that she would turn them on him again with the corners crinkled up with happiness.

It was hard for Dwalin not to stare at Lady Norine, it was just that his eyes _wanted_ to look at her more than anything else.

She was _everything_ a Lady ought to be.

It took him a while to realize what he was seeing – and when he finally figured it out, it fell right out of his mouth in surprise.

“You have spots.” He could have swallowed his own tongue for shame. She did, she was all covered with them beneath her powder, but that was _not_ the sort of thing to say to a gently raised Lady. Sweet forgiving Norine did not flinch for a moment, though.

“I do.” she said. Her eyes smiled as she leaned toward him, her voice turning conspiratorial as her lace-gloved fingertips rested on his forearm, “Complexions like mine are why they invented _powder_.”

“I... I _like_ them.” he hastened to reassure her, “They have character.”

Lady Norine placed her fingers across her lips for a moment, smiling as she looked away from him and then back.

“...you will go to my head.” she accused, but she did not seem upset about that.

When the picnic luncheon was over and the baskets all packed away empty, Norine accepted his arm as they walked back to the manor house, and he could not be more pleased.

 

A few days later he was invited to another manor on Sarnay, where things did not go so well. Lady Norine was playing at cards with the young people – and winning handily – but Dwalin ended up trapped in a conversation with a former officer of the Royal Navy. It had started off well enough, discussing the properties of various ships, but it very quickly became clear that he was the sort who thought only his own opinion mattered. He was the sort of officer who would stand by while the men under him were abused, calling it 'discipline'. The kind of man who was the _reason_ Dwalin was not in the Navy proper.

The kind of man Dwalin still had the _scars_ from standing up to.

He'd nearly died to protect his sailors, and he'd do it _again_ if he had to. He'd not had the power to stop those officers and their abuse, but he'd taken the best of their crew for his own ship – the most loyal men he'd ever met when they were treated with _respect_.

Normally Dwalin did not have two words for men like the one who was talking at him... but Lady Norine laughed as she won at cards yet again, and Dwalin kept the heat of his temper in check.

It was not easy, but Dwalin did not imagine he would be invited into Lady Norine's presence ever again if he punched the man. Not to mention the legal troubles for assaulting a gentleman.

“I do not find that to be the case.” Dwalin said through gritted teeth, after being subjected to a lengthy speech on punishment aboard ship and why there should be more of it. “Whippings and cut rations only breed fear and hatred. Treat a good man well, and he'll willingly follow you into hell. I'd rather have men at my back in battle who do _not_ dream fondly of my death.”

“Oh, well said Captain!” Lady Norine broke in before the other man could come back with bluster about the dangers of 'going soft'. She smiled up at Dwalin from under the big soft curls of her hair – yellow powdered today to match her lace.

“I hate to interrupt you, but will you walk me home? They won't let me play cards anymore. They accuse me of _cheating_.” Norine continued, looking over at the young people.

“Nori never loses!” one of the ladies laughed, “No one's that lucky, she's a _shark_.”

“I am _hurt_.” Norine laughed back, “I _dare_ you to prove I'm the fox in the henhouse.” She turned her bright eyes back to Dwalin, “ _Will_ you walk me home?”

“Of course, my Lady.” he answered, and then it was just a few moments of gathering their things and they were leaving. Dwalin was still bristling from the ignorance of the old officer, but he tried his best not to show it to Lady Norine. She did not need to see his temper – it had _always_ been too hot for his own good.

“That... foul old windbag.” Norine snapped once they were off the manor grounds, her lips tight with displeasure, “The _things_ he was saying... I'd have punched him right in the teeth if I were you!”

The Lady's fierce support, after holding on so hard, broke through the tight control of Dwalin's anger. It _all_ poured out. He growled and snarled and ranted on about abuse and the Royal Navy and officers like _that_ who'd see a boy die for an imagined infraction – or one he was forced to from hunger and exhaustion.

He ran out about the time they reached her Uncle's estate. Lady Norine squeezed his arm, her lace-gloved hand tucked affectionately through his elbow.

“Better?” she asked, smiling gently. Dwalin nodded, feeling a little hollow – and a bit ashamed that she should have seen him like that – but mostly as though he'd gotten a strangling weight off his chest.

“Good.” she said warmly, “I am sorry you were abandoned with him – his kind of thinking is so _wrong_. It's the same, running an estate. Treat your tenants fairly, and they'll deal fairly with you. Treat your servants well, and their loyalty is worth more than gold. People deserve to be treated like _people_. Men like _him_ forget that.”

Dwalin put his hand over Norine's on his elbow, pressing it close with his heart catching in his throat.

He did not have the _words_ for how she made him feel.

 

Another time, they went horseback riding on Guernsey with some of the gentry of that island. Dwalin was not the most _experienced_ horseman, so he worried, but he would not give up the chance to spend more time with Lady Norine.

“I am _terribly_ out of practice.” Norine confessed to him quietly, as they were all milling about with the horses, “I hope you will forgive me for being sure we both got the most boring, placid beasts?”

“Thank you.” Dwalin answered. She would know that he, being at sea so much, he would not have much chance to ride either. His Lady looked after him so well.

“Will you hold my stirrup?” Lady Norine asked, when it was time to mount up. It should probably have been a groomsman who did it for her, but having watched how they did it for the others Dwalin was fairly confident he could.

Dwalin held her patient gelding's bridle in one hand, steadying her stirrup with the other.

She placed her foot in his hand, and he was holding her boot as she hoisted herself easily into the saddle.

Her boot was so _pretty_ , a soft green, with lace up the sides and a tall heel. It was so small, so delicate in his hand – just like her. Lady Norine settled on her horse, both those boots right in front of Dwalin. He could wrap a hand around her slender ankle, press his lips to the toe of that beautiful boot and...

Dwalin let go of Lady Norine's stirrup abruptly, face heating as he handed her reins to her and turned away to his own sturdy mare.

She was _far_ too good to have an old sailor like _him_ thinking of her like that. She was worthy of _so much_ better than that. Norine was a perfect Lady, pure and untouchable, he could not _think_ of her that way. It was wrong.

And she was smiling at him, urging him not to fall behind.

Their horses were calm creatures, as she'd promised, and they rode side by side having their own quiet conversation amid the happy chatter of the rest of the group.

Dwalin's thoughts were unworthy of her, but he could not get the thought – or the feel of her little boot in his palm – out of his mind.

 

Dwalin was invited to various functions and entertainments, and he went to them all though they were much more the kind of thing Balin was comfortable with. He had more than one matron thank him for drawing Norine out.

“Such a quiet mouse she was, hiding behind her Uncle – poor dear. It does the heart good to see her smile the way she does with you.”

Dwalin never _had_ been invited to so many things. He knew he was not the best of company, and he was easy enough with Lady Norine that his surprise at that fell out of his mouth one day. He had not meant to bring it up.

“It's because we're _safe_.” Lady Norine confessed, “They use us to fill out a party's numbers without fear we will break up their little romances. I'm an old maid with no fortune – unlikely to tempt the eligible bachelors – and they imagine I might teach virtues to the young ladies.” She chuckled lightly to herself over that, though Dwalin could not imagine a better teacher.

“And _you_ have not shown even the _slightest_ interest in any of the young ladies.” Norine finished.

“Only one.” Dwalin confessed, and Lady Norine hid her face behind her fan – but her eyes gave her smile away.

Dwalin attended lunches and teas and dinners and little sailing trips on tiny boats. Balin even invited Dorian and Lady Norine to a fine dinner with them at a restaurant in St. Peter Port on Guernsey – rumored to be the best in the channel isles. Dorian and Balin had gotten along very well, and Balin even said he liked Lady Norine afterward.

Dwalin went anywhere he was invited where he was likely to see Lady Norine, but if he had to _chose_ his favorite was when they spent a quiet evening in the manor and she read to him.

Eventually all the Cú Faoil's repairs were done, and Dwalin had to prepare to go. Forced shore leave had never gone so quickly before.

He _did_ ask her to read to him, the final day he would be on Sarney. They had walked all around the gardens, and she agreed and led him back to the drawing room.

Lady Norine settled herself comfortably on her chair after choosing a book. She laughed slightly at him where he sat, his big hands clasped between his knees to keep them still.

“Your _hair_.” she smiled, “It always escapes... May I tend to it?” Lady Norine was reaching toward him, making no move to rise.

He would... he would have to sit at her feet. It could not _really_ be allowed, could it? But _she_ would not offer if it were improper, she was too much a true Lady for that.

“Of course.” Dwalin agreed, stepping toward her but not certain where he was supposed to go.

“A cushion, I think?” She suggested, gesturing to one, and Dwalin was quick to get it and place it where she indicated. He sat on it beside her, looking up at her and not certain what he was to do. Her gold and gray eyes were fond as she slipped her lace glove off and began running her fingers through his coarse hair – removing the little strip of leather he'd bound it back with.

Her fingernails ran lightly along his scalp as she combed his hair with her own fingers. Dwalin had no control over a sigh that was very nearly a moan.

She answered with a pleased little purr, and he obeyed the little nudge that had him leaning against her chair.

“Comfortable?” Lady Norine asked, and he could only nod, eyes closed as he leaned into her stroking fingers. He could stay here forever and die happy – basking in the affection of his Lady.

Maybe she could see it in him that he _never_ wanted to move, because there was the sound of pages turning and she began to read. Dwalin melted under her stroking fingers and the carefully tempered melody of her voice.

Oh, what he would not give to lay his cheek on her thigh – but that _would_ be too much. More than offered. He leaned against her chair, listening to her read, the occasional turn of a page. The verses flowed like sweet water from her mouth and Dwalin floated in them and the soft floral perfume of her scent.

He could not tell how much later it was when she stopped, just that he came back as if from a dream. One of his hands had, unbeknownst to him, curled around her nearest little boot to cradle it.

“I will not keep you later.” She said, ignoring his shame as he untangled himself, “You have an early morning.”

And that _was_ true.

Lady Norine rose when he did, gently straightening his rumpled jacket for him.

“I do hope we will see each other again, Dwalin?” Lady Norine asked.

“My Lady, I would like nothing better.” He answered, “I will think of you often.”

“And I, you.” She answered. She was standing so close, her face turned up to him and her eyes so bright. He could draw her forward and kiss...

Kiss her? As though she were a common... No. No she was a _Lady_ and she was worthy of being treated so much better than that.

Dwalin gently lifted her hand – back in its beautiful lace glove – and dared press his lips to her knuckles.

His Lady, his sweet untouchable Norine, allowed him.

“Until we meet again.” He said,

“May it be soon.” She answered.

Dwalin bowed one last time and saw himself out to return to the port and the Cú Faoil, the whole sea waiting for him.

He did not realize until he was well away that she had braided her own lavender and gray ribbons into his hair.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there is art by Sparkle!  
> http://asparklethatisblue.tumblr.com/post/90769475858/smell-the-sea-and-feel-the-sky-in-which-nori  
> http://asparklethatisblue.tumblr.com/post/90770880648/i-would-sit-at-her-feet-and-listen-to-her-read


	8. patron

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The arrival and departure of the Bloody Gannet

Nori had taken to walking the cliffsides alone, watching the sea – well aware that most expected it was for Dwalin.

While it was _true_ that the various entertainments available on the island had grown stale without the privateer's presence, it was the Bloody Gannet Nori was watching for. Bifur and Bofur _should_ be bringing her back around soon.

Any day.

The luxury and beauty of Nori's life as a lady had not yet lost their charm, but every day the limitations placed on a lady felt more confining – the benefits less desirable. Nori _chafed_ at the bounds of propriety. Maintaining gentle politeness had become a constant struggle.

Nori had even gotten into a vicious argument with Dori – though what had started it neither of them could say. Certainly nothing important enough to warrant Nori's venom.

They had both apologized, and forgiven, but they knew it would be best if Nori left.

Nori could _play_ at being a lady, and well, but the role would never really fit. The role of pirate was a much better match.

Any day... any day Bifur would bring the Gannet back around and Nori would be back striking fear into the hearts of men.

They were _late_ , but that could mean anything. An unfavorable wind, or an unexpected Navy patrol to dodge.

It did not mean that the ship had been lost, or that the crew had chosen to abandon Nori and set out on their own with a new captain.

No. No the crew were as loyal to Nori as Nori was to them. It _had_ to be true or there was _nothing_ true in the world.

The Bloody Gannet _would_ come.

Nori forsook entertainments among the gentry and took to pacing the clifftops, eyes straining out to sea.

 

When there finally _were_ the unmistakeable silhouette of junk sails on the horizon, Nori _ran_. Terribly unladylike – but Nori picked up his skirts and ran all the way back to the manor. Poor Smith the butler was scandalized when he came crashing through the door and ran up the stairs.

Nori was already halfway undressed when Jenny arrived.

“Milady...?” Jenny started.

“Gather my things, love, I'm _gone_.” Nori grinned, stripping as quickly as possible without damaging the dress – it _was_ a lovely dress.

“Right away, Captain.” Jenny smiled, and set to work.

Even with Jenny's able help, it took _time_ to wash off all of Nori's powder – to get it all out of his hair, and get dressed again in his seafaring clothes.

It was helpful to have Jenny's help lacing the lightly boned vest that went under his clothes to keep his chest flat – but Nori _was_ more than capable of doing it alone.

“Proper pirate you look!” Jenny smiled, tying the end of his long red braid with one of his favorite lacy ribbons. She blushed despite herself when Nori winked at her on his way out of the room.

It felt so good to wear _trousers_ , to feel the weight of his Kukri knives on the back of his belt. The shape of his body felt good,  _right_.

There were things that needed to be done, Dori'd had Nori writing letters to give to the other gentry to explain Lady Norine's absence – so he'd be able to mail those himself. The Cook had been baking hard tack and storing it in barrels, and Dori had been quietly buying stocks of salted meats – never enough to cause comment in any one place. They had even gotten several large barrels of salted cabbage to keep away scurvy if they were too long away from any fresh fruit and vegetables. They also had a store of dried beans. Chinese sailors were familiar with spouting beans on long voyages and _never_ suffered from scurvy. Mung beans would have been better, but Nori's crew had learned from experience that lentils served nearly as well when that was all they could get.

The manor house was a hive of activity, preparing to send Nori off suitably provisioned.

Nori rowed out in a little boat to meet them when the Bloody Gannet pulled into the cove, leaving behind those of the household who'd been carrying things down to be loaded onto the ship.

Nori grabbed a line as soon as he was close enough and was hauled up onto the deck. He fell first into Bifur's arms, kissed both the quartermaster's cheeks, hugged cheerful Bofur so hard he complained of cracked ribs, passed through his whole crew – greeting them all in their own languages.

All of them. His crew. It was almost enough to make him emotional.

“Lads and ladies...” Nori grinned, Vulpes' easy sneer feeling right at home on his face, “Come ashore, we've got cold ale and sausages over the fire.” There was a good deal more food than just _that_ , but it got a cheer and the boats were lowered for the trip to shore.

The casks of ale were tapped, food was served on the beach – with as much fresh fruit and vegetables as they could eat – music was played, and Nori's crew got to meet and greet some of the manor staff.

When everyone was full and happy, Nori brought up the possibility of taking Dori as a patron. No matter _what_ they chose this cove would always be a safe harbor to them, but with Dori as their patron there would be food and supplies for them here as well.

All it would take was a share of any of their take going to Dori – beyond Nori's personal shares.

It was a long parliament they held on the beach that night, arguing back and forth on the terms, but in the end they were unanimously agreed to it. The value of the support Dori could give them was deemed enough.

“Off again...” Dori sighed when it was time for Nori to go, to catch the tide. He hugged Nori tight before pushing back his shoulders to look him in the eye – man to man, even if Dori's eyes were a little misty.

“I _am_ proud of you.” Dori said, “You need this. You need _them_ , I can see it.” he nodded to the crew, “But come home to me alive?”

“I will, Uncle Dori.” Nori promised. “The Gannet's too damn fast to be caught, the crew's too good. We'll all keep each other safe.”

The cook had brought down a tightly sealed tin of shortbread – twice baked to last forever – and had a few tears herself as she wished Nori off.

“Come be a pirate with me, Jenny.” Nori urged, but the plump maid just laughed at him. He feigned heartbreak, which only made her laugh at him harder. No, pretty Jenny was only at home on solid ground. She might sail from Sarnay across the channel to England if she had to, but never further than that.

Not like Nori, who'd sailed clear around the world and got the salt-water in his veins.

One last kiss to Dori's cheek and Nori threw his shoulder in to push the last boat out into the cove, leaping aboard to row out.

The Bloody Gannet waited, her diving bird prow straining forward – ready to break the waves and carry them off and away in search of plunder.

Nori grinned as he pulled his oar in time with his crew.

He was _more_ than ready.


	9. one chance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life aboard the Bloody Gannet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks everyone on tumblr who put up with my research flailing and rage yesterday, with special mention to werpiper for being willing to abuse harvard's academic resources in the name of fic research.  
> and to kuailongkit for naming help.
> 
> WARNING this chapter for brief misgendering, attempted assault, and graphic minor character death.

Nori sprawled out on the deck – barefoot and shirtless under the Caribbean sun. Double-wrapped around one wrist as a bracelet he wore a thin strip of leather that had once failed to contain a certain privateer Captain's hair. The Bloody Gannet sailed gently under a favorable wind, and the crew took their leisure. The gorgeously inked dragon up Nori's left arm was enjoying the fresh air, as were the other designs he'd gathered from all around the world – decorating his belly, back, and arms.

So was Nori. Sarnay was _nice_ , but there was no denying that it was often rainy and _never_ warm.

Nori sighed contentedly as Bifur drew the wide-toothed comb through his hair, spreading fragrant coconut oil through it. The sun and sea were rough on hair. A mane like Nori's needed care to keep it long and beautiful.

That Bifur _liked_ combing hair was a bonus. It was a small luxury, a closeness they shared. For all Bifur was a nightmare in a fight, he was a kind man, a _gentle_ man. It was a little tradition they'd started when Nori first started growing his hair out long. He'd thought he was going to have to cut it off short again, with the damage from sun and salt and wind. When he approached Bifur with it, the quartermaster had instead sat Nori down and brushed oil through his hair until it was smooth and gleaming.

Nori always preferred coconut oil, when they could get it. It smelled of sun and travel, to him.

Nori's toes on the deck tapped in time with the cheerful music – Bofur playing his bamboo flute along with Taiwo and Ayo drumming and singing. Their musical styles were very different, but they managed to make it work.

Just like this ship – Jamaican sloop with junk rigging to make her _fast_ and easy to maneuver – easy to sail and easy to maintain. Just like this crew, gathered up from all over the world.

It shouldn't work, but it did.

Nori's peaceful reverie was broken by a gentle touch to his arm. He cracked an eye to watch Bifur's fingers signing, and did not let himself sigh. They'd picked up a new sailor, and he'd noticed Nori.

It had to be dealt with.

“You're right, Bifur.” Nori said, loud enough to be heard over the music, only _just_ watching the crew on the deck through his lashes, “Walker _is_ looking a touch warm.” The crew's eyes were turning toward the new sailor, conversations stopping. He glanced back and forth, face going redder than it _had_ been.

“Help him cool off, would you Boston?” Nori asked mildly.

The Boston boys – couple of _mean_ bruisers from the british colony – didn't need a second invitation. The new sailor hardly had time for a strangled 'but _she_ ' before he was picked up by both arms and flung screaming overboard.

Bifur's gentle strokes through Nori's hair did not slow. The music had not stopped, but grown quieter so that Walker's desperate splashing and burbled cursing was clearly audible.

When it changed from cursing to just gurgling and weaker splashing – and before they sailed beyond range – Nori gave the signal and a line was thrown to haul him back in.

A sailor who couldn't swim. Nori was glad _he_ wasn't one – not anymore.

He left Bifur with a gentle touch to his arm and drew his kukri knife as he pulled the hapless sailor that last little bit onto the deck. Walker was coughing, still choking on sea-water. Nori shoved him back against the railing with a fist clenched in the fabric of his shirt, nearly pushing him back over it with the curved blade of his knife against his throat.

Walker whimpered, nearly sobbing as he tried to lean back from the knife while not falling overboard. The deck was completely silent save for the wind on the sails, the music had finally stopped as the crew watched.

“You _asked_ to sail on my ship.” Nori reminded, “And if you want to _stay_ , you need to understand this – Nakili and Mina are the _only_ women on this ship.”

Nori tilted his head gently to the side so Walker could see their Miskito strikers, butchering out a big green turtle beside their little canoa. Without their hunting and fishing skill, the crew would not have be eating nearly so well. There wasn't a pirate or privateer ship in this _hemisphere_ who didn't count themselves lucky if a Miskito wanted to travel with them - a pair of strikers could feed a hundred sailors.

“Those two are together. _Matelots_ , like the French _boucanier_ on Hispaniola, you know? I don't hold with torture, but if you bother either of _them_... none of us will come to your aid when you scream.”

Nori glanced back at the strikers. Nakili drove her big knife down beside the sea turtle's carapace, there was a loud _snap_ in the silence as she broke the turtle's spine away from its shell with a brief flex of her powerful arm. Smaller Mina, holding the headless turtle's still-churning flippers still, flicked a little piece of meat of the tip of her long knife toward Ulmo the ships cat, who was begging.

Nori looked back from the Miskito to whey-pale Walker, still hung precariously over the deck rail.

“Mina and Nakili are the _only_ women aboard this ship, do you understand?” Nori asked, “I don't care what you _see_ , I don't care what you _think,_ there are no other women. You don't get to _stare._ You don't get to say 'she' or 'her'. God _help_ you if you _touch_. The next time I have you over these rails, _no one_ will throw you a line.”

“You have _one_ chance. Am I understood?” Nori finished. The whites were visible all around Walker's terrified blue eyes – Nori's knife still pressed to his throat and one tiny shove all it would take to send him back into the drink.

“Yes. Yes sir.” He gasped, and Nori hauled him away from the edge and flung him onto the deck.

Nori did not look back as he walked back to his spot and Bifur, leaning back to let the Quartermaster finish brushing his hair. Bofur and Ayo and Taiwo started playing their music again, and Nori relaxed.

Bifur tapped Nori on the arm to catch his attention. _“Will he accept?”_ he signed.

“I hope so.” Nori answered. Walker had fled belowdecks to change clothes and do some heavy thinking, no doubt. Nori hoped that he came to the right conclusion. Nori might only be willing to give Walker a single chance, but he _was_ willing to give that one chance.

Some of his best had begun by being thrown overboard.

 

Three days later, in the quiet watches of the night, the door to the Captain's cabin opened. For a brief moment, there was visible the silhouette of a man against the stars.

The flash and report of a pistol shattered the night, deafening and blinding in the confined space of the cabin.

There was chaos on the Bloody Gannet as crew boiled out of the belly of the ship, lighting lamps from each other and trying to discover _what_ had happened.

Bifur was the first to reach the Captain's cabin with a lamp in hand.

Walker lay out in front of the door – appearance not much improved by the hole blown through his face.

Nori's hands finished reloading the turn-off pistol by rote, screwing the barrel back on snug as he stood to join Bifur in the doorway.

“Oh look.” Nori nudged the body with a toe to see what he'd been holding. “Rope, a knife... and do you suppose he figured this for a gag?”

“You know...” He commented, “I never _can_ decide if I prefer the ones who're at least smart enough to realize I'll be unwilling to the ones who think I'll _welcome_ them?”

Bifur signed nothing. He stepped around the splayed limbs to stand beside Nori, arm coming around his shoulders. Nori leaned into the graying quartermaster's solid side.

“Anybody want to sew him into his hammock?” Nori asked, looking up into his crew's faces. “Well then, heave him over.” He said, when nobody volunteered.

The Boston boys picked the body up between them and dragged him off, and the swabbies had already begun hauling up buckets of sea water to wash the blood from the deck before it set.

“ _Everyone not on watch, to bed_.” Bifur signed, and Bofur sang it out in a few different languages for those who hadn't seen.

No one milled about for long, heading back to their rest. The swabbies were quick with the deck, and saluted smartly before darting back belowdecks to sleep the rest of the night.

Only Bifur was left, arm around Nori's shoulders, and Nori was shaking now.

He shouldn't be. Walker wasn't the _first_ man he'd ever killed, or the first who'd ever tried to break into his cabin. Even if Nori _hadn't_ woken from his door opening, even if he'd not had that warning or a lucky shot – a single shout or even the sound of a scuffle would have brought his crew running.

 _Nothing_  could happen to him here, on _his_ ship with _his_ crew, but Nori was _still_ shaking.

And Bifur silently held him as Nori turned into his arms to hold him tight and just... _shake_.

When Nori had done that enough, when he was better, he stepped back from Bifur. The Quartermaster smiled at him, stroked Nori's cheek softly with the back of his hand.

“ _Sleep.”_ he signed, leaning against the wall beside Nori's door and taking out a folding knife and a little piece of driftwood.

He would be there – _always_ there for Nori. He'd sit just outside Nori's door with his lamp and carve all night, because he _knew_ that Nori wouldn't sleep otherwise.

Nori's answering smile might have been a little watery.

Bifur looked away, snapping his fingers and calling with little 'psssh' sounds. Ulmo the ship cat came sauntering over, big orange beggar. She rubbed against Bifur's hand, purring – not stopping for even a second as he picked her up and handed her to Nori.

Nori held Ulmo, feeling the tension ease out of him as her purring echoed through his chest.

“Thank you, Bifur.” Nori nodded to him and retreated back into his cabin. He settled into his bed, Ulmo purring warm against his belly, fluffy fur beneath his hands to pet – a world away from any danger.

Around Nori's wrist was a thin strip of leather, double-wrapped and knotted as a bracelet. His fingers traced it, around and around.

 _Dwalin_ had known Nori as a woman, and he'd not even dared to _kiss_. He'd sat at Nori's feet with that expression of worship and longing.

He'd not pressed for what Nori would have given him gladly.

...but that was with a _Lady,_ how might he respond to Captain Vulpes?

Nori _had_ been intending to find out.


	10. ought to

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vulpes and Dwalin finally meet

The Cú Faoil had been chasing the Spanish ship day and night for three days, and _this_ was after much longer of planning. They were running her down, slowly but surely. Their quarry was heavy in the water with treasure, and could not outrun them.

The crew were on edge, weapons checked and checked again, watching the Spanish ship. Dwalin did what he could to steady them, keep them rested, but he felt the same way. They were _ready_ , straining to catch their prey – overrun the ship and take the treasure.

The Bloody Gannet came out of _nowhere_.

The waves broke white before her prow, the mongrel pirate's black flag with the fox skull flying high and the red flag of no quarter already halfway raised.

\- a threat. We _may_ give quarter now, but anger us and our minds will change.

The crew of the Cú Faoil could hear the screaming of the pirates as they bore down on the Spanish ship, cannon firing in a warning shot across her bows, and muskets firing too when they were in range.

The Spanish could not surrender fast enough.

Dwalin was cursing as the pirates swarmed up onto _his_ quarry, the rage near blinding. _He_ had chased this ship. _He_ had planned. It was _his_.

Vulpes, damn scavenger, had no _right_.

“Hold the course!” Dwalin bellowed. “She is _ours_ , we'll board from the opposite side!”

“Sir...” It was the first mate, Harris, voice low and worried beneath the excited shouting of the crew, “We _can't_ fight both the Spanish and the Bloody Gannet... we'll lose too many men.”

“I'm not _fighting_.” Dwalin promised through gritted teeth. Not with _guns_ , at least. Not unless he _had_ to.

“Do not attack unless you are attacked!” Dwalin shouted to the crew.

They fell silent as they came abreast of the Spanish ship. Boarding hooks were thrown to draw them together, and Dwalin was the first of his crew aboard. The pirates had disarmed the Spanish crew, lining them all up along the rail.

Red-haired Vulpes under his ostrich-plumed tricorn hat, the end of his braid bound with a ridiculously lacy ribbon, had the Captain on his knees at gunpoint.

“This ship is _my_ quarry. _My_ prize. _Mine_.” Dwalin bellowed.

There were a _lot_ of pirates with freshly reloaded pistols eying Dwain and his crew. Dwalin's men bristled behind him – more than ready for a fight.

“And yet, they surrendered to _me_.” Vulpes answered mildly. His voice was higher than Dwalin would have expected, touch of a laughing sneer. Vulpes nodded to a foreign sailor with a wild mane of black-and-silver hair who emerged from the hold and waved his hands, and left off menacing the Spanish Captain.

“I have this.” Vulpes said quietly to his crew. He hooked the pistol to one of the straps that crisscrossed his body – joining many others – and swaggered over toward Dwalin.

He was _tiny_.

Dwalin had known that Vulpes was not big, had heard that he was a small man, but he was _tiny_. Lean as a whip and the way he moved bringing to mind the same – an easy looseness to his motions but Dwalin could not help bracing for a strike.

There was a sharpness to his face – fair skin heavily speckled from the sun – a cruelness in the sneering smile that only grew wider as he took Dwalin in and let Dwalin do the same.

Dwalin _hated_ him. He was a filthy _pirate_ who stole what was Dwalin's and _laughed_. He'd like to punch that smile right off his face and yet...

He was so _small_. Shorter and more slender even than Dwalin's _Lady_ , and that twisted something in Dwalin's gut. His hand closed unconsciously on the locket pocketwatch that held her lavender and gray ribbons sealed safe behind glass – and hadn't Balin laughed. Knight errant carrying his Lady's colors, he'd accused, and the comparison had pleased Dwalin.

Dwalin had _never_ been the kind of man to hurt those smaller than him.

“This ship is mine.” Dwalin growled, taking a step forward to loom over the pirate, “Shove off.”

Vulpes smiled, all sharp teeth and a chuckle that never left his throat, “No.” He answered. His eyes glittered hard, reflecting back the vivid blue of the sky and the gray of the sea behind the dark smear of paint across them.

The pirate crew shifted behind him, all attention focused on Dwalin and his crew, and Dwalin breathed carefully. His men were _good_ men, he couldn't risk them against both the Spanish and the pirates. He wouldn't waste their lives.

He was not fighting here, even if he wanted to wring Vulpes' scrawny neck.

“I'm the one who chased, who hunted, who _planned_...” Dwalin started.

“And you think I didn't?” Vulpes sneered. “Just because I did it _better_?”

Dwalin could feel his heartbeat in his temples, his hands clenching as his vision narrowed to the cocky little _pirate's_ face.

Dwalin did not _miss_ his targets. He caught every one he chased.

Every one but the bloody _Gannet_.

Vulpes had taken _so much_ that was Dwalin's, and now he dared _mock_...

“And don't you get _smart_.” Vulpes suddenly spun, pistol drawn and holding his hand out in front of Dwalin as if to beg him to pause.

The Spanish Captain's eyes were wide, his hand frozen reaching toward one of the muskets that had been taken from his crew and Nori's pistol aimed unwaveringly between his eyes.

...how had Vulpes even _noticed_ ? Everyone else, even _Dwalin_ had been so focused on only the two of them.

“Boston!” Vulpes snapped like on order, putting his pistol back and turning back to Dwalin. He did not pay the slightest attention as two of his crew grabbed the hapless Captain and flung him overboard.

“What _were_ we arguing for?” Vulpes asked, smooth as a snake with a predatory gleam in his eye, utterly ignoring the splashing and shouting of the Spanish Captain. “May I introduce myself? Cap'n Vulpes, at your service.” He swept his hat off to bow grandly.

“Captain Dwalin.” Dwalin managed, thrown off balance by the sudden change but still on his guard.

“Oh, I know _you_ , Wolfhound.” Vulpes chuckled again low in his chest. Laughing at a private joke of his own, and Dwalin didn't trust it.

“I am not an _unreasonable_ man.” Vulpes continued, gaze raking lazily up Dwalin's frame in a way that made Dwalin's collar feel hot for no reason, “I can share the prize. Shall we retire to the captain's cabin to discuss terms like gentlemen?”

The words 'you are no _gentleman_ ' burned behind Dwalin's tongue, but he held them back. He was _not_ fighting here.

He nodded. If _this_ was how he could get the gold for himself, for his crew, for Balin and the Crown...

Vulpes shrugged out of his pistols, handing them off to a sailor with a long swooping mustache.

“...Captain...” The sailor tried, but Vulpes waved him off.

“I have this, Bofur.” he assured. Dwalin disarmed himself and they both walked together toward the captain's cabin.

Vulpes made a 'carry on' gesture to his crew, and then the door was closed behind them on the murmuring of the crews and the weakening splashing of the Spanish Captain.

Dwalin expected argument, debate... not for Vulpes to all but ignore him. The pirate immediately began opening shelves and trunks. He held a frilly shirt against himself, held it up before Dwalin before shaking his head and tossing it back. He made a pleased sound when he opened the liquor cabinet, taking out a bottle and sniffing it deeply before he took a swig and then handed it to Dwalin.

“What are you _doing_?” Dwalin asked, putting the bottle back.

“I wouldn't drink the grog in the hold.” Vulpes answered, searching for the catch on another cabinet, “I'd have poisoned it, if I were them. This stuff'll be safe, though.”

Dwalin's mind reeled – poison? But Vulpes crowed when he got the cabinet open, derailing his train of thought again.

“Books!” Vulpes clapped his hands, sharp teeth bared hungrily, “Figured him for a reader. What have we got? Oooh, Cervantes' _Perseiles_! Do you like Cervantes?”

He held a book out toward Dwalin, who took a step back.

“Your loss.” Vulpes shrugged, tucking it under his arm along with a few other books. He was all smooth lines, balanced neatly on his toes as he crouched in front of the cabinet. His long red braid looped sinuously over his shoulder, leaving the nape of his neck bare, vulnerable in its surprising delicacy.

“And a translation of Shakespeare's sonnets, that's new!” Vulpes flipped the volume open at random, “ _Por que dices, cruel, que no te adoro / cuando sin tregua tu sentir defiendo, / Y por tu dulce amor estoy muriendo_...”

Vulpes smacked his lips, as though tasting the flavor of the words. “149th, not a bad translation. You like poetry?” He offered the book.

“No.” Dwalin said. English was hard enough, he'd never managed to be anything but abysmal in any other language either.

“That's a shame.” Vulpes dismissed offhand, tucking the book under his arm with the others and returning to perusing the shelf.

“You're stealing his _books_?” Dwalin demanded. That just wasn't _right_ , going through someone's personal things to steal them. Guns and powder and gold, that was alright, but _books_?

Vulpes gave Dwalin a _look_ , such a look that could speak _volumes_ about what he thought of Dwalin's scruples and his expectation that a pirate would share them.

“Take his books.” Dwalin conceded, “My crew and I take the gold.”

“No.” Vulpes dismissed, “They surrendered to me, darling. You'll have what's left when my ship's full.”

Dwalin chafed at the pirate's dismissive tone, “How about the other way?” He suggested through gritted teeth.

“Hah.” Vulpes scoffed, taking one last book and shutting the cabinet before going back to the liquor. He tipped his head back for a long swig, and Dwalin watched the bobbing of his throat. He was _young_ , he must be. How had someone so young gotten to be a pirate Captain?

There was nothing young about his eyes though when he put the bottle back, his sharp-edged sneer of a smile. He placed the books aside, his gaze once again traveling up and down Dwalin, evaluating. All the hairs on the back of Dwalin's neck were standing on end as Vulpes stepped up close to him. He called himself the fox but he moved like a whip and Dwalin would bet his _teeth_ he struck like a snake.

“It's _funny_ you think you're in a position to bargain that hard with _me_.” The small man purred.

“This ship is _mine_ , I ought to...” Dwalin reached to take a handful of Vulpes' shirt at the throat, shake him up a little maybe. Instead of moving back or dodging him, Vulpes moved _forward_ past it.

He was fast, suddenly _far_ too close, inside Dwalin's guard. He stumbled back against the Spanish Captain's desk.

Vulpes had one arm draped over Dwalin's shoulder, his fingers gripping tight in the hair at the back of Dwalin's head, his other resting on Dwalin's chest. One of his knees had found it's way between Dwalin's thighs and the other had made it behind Dwalin to balance on the desk, lifting the small man higher than Dwalin.

“Ought to _what_?” Vulpes breathed, his face _just_ above Dwalin's. Dwalin's hands had grabbed the small man in his shock, one perfectly round and muscular arsecheek filling Dwalin's palm, his other resting on the taut bow of the pirate's back.

Dwalin could feel the _heat_ of Vulpes' body all across his front as he looked up into glittering eyes that reflected gold like a mirror. He could smell brandy and the tangy scent of sweat blended with coconut and the sharp notes of gunpowder smoke, feel the flex of strong muscles beneath his palm, the nudge of the leg between his thighs, the tug of the grip on his hair.

God, _please_ , it had been so many years untouched...

Dwalin would deny to his dying breath that he whimpered, straining up toward Vulpes.

That was all the invitation the pirate needed. Vulpes' mouth was kissing Dwalin's hard, slipping his tongue in when Dwalin gasped.

Dwalin moaned and sucked on the pirate's tongue, relishing the oak-aged sharpness of the brandy he'd drunk as his eyes fluttered shut. He squeezed the perfect globe of Vulpes' arsecheek with one hand while he reached up to steady the side of Vulpes' face with the other. Dwalin thrust his tongue back briefly into the heat of the pirate's mouth before Vulpes took that back and Dwalin moaned again as his mouth was claimed.

The pirate's lips and clean shaven skin were so soft, and he was tiny, and he was so beautifully _hungry_. Dwalin always had liked small, delicate... but Vulpes was _strong_ , too, muscles moving beneath Dwalin's hands.

Vulpes growled low, catching Dwalin's lip between his teeth. Dwalin's eyes flew open, whimpering as he gazed up into the smaller man's eyes. Gold and all-consuming fire and Dwalin shuddered with his whole body as the pirate bit him.

He gasped when Vulpes let go.

“About damn _time_.” the pirate breathed against his lips. Before Dwalin could pull him back in for _more_ , he'd slipped out of his hands.

“Come to think of it, you can _have_ the ship.” Vulpes commented, his breath far too composed and his smile far too sharp for what they'd been doing. He grabbed his books and slipped out the door and was gone.

Dwalin was left stone-hard and head-spinning in an empty cabin while he listened to the pirate shout orders to shove off to his crew.

The heat of Vulpes' mouth, the flex of his muscles. Dwalin would like to strip him bare, taste the texture of his speckled skin all over and...

No.

Dwalin's Lady, his perfect sweet Lady Norine running her fingers through his hair as she allowed him to sit at her feet.

Oh god, he hadn't _meant_ to. He wasn't _supposed_ to want, especially not _now_...

But his cockerel throbbed in trousers grown far too tight, proof that he _had_ wanted. Did want. Desperately.

Dwalin pinched the web of his thumb as hard as he could, pain to draw him back. He breathed deeply, forcing himself into calm.

He stayed in the cabin until the Bloody Gannet was gone, until he was just _confused_ more than anything else.

Why would the pirate do that? What possible benefit could it have had?

The confusion did not last long once Dwalin left the cabin. The Spanish Captain was waterlogged and coughing on the deck, Dwalin's crew milling around wondering what to do – the Bloody Gannet out of range with all the treasure her crew had loaded as fast as they could while Dwalin was distracted and his crew had no orders.

Dwalin _may_ have pushed a cannon overboard in his rage at being left behind while Vulpes made off with the best yet again.

Very, very clever, Vulpes. Distract the Captain any way possible, get him off guard, take the treasure. It burned red behind Dwalin's eyes that he'd _fallen_ for it.

If the pirate knew what was healthy for him, he'd not try it on Dwalin again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait for this chapter. Yesterday I spent the day discussing and thinking about if I was doing Nori's genderfluidity right instead of writing chapter. You can read up (and add you two cents) over on my tumblr.  
> http://thorinsmut.tumblr.com/post/91250629768/alright-so-yesterday-was-not-a-writing-day
> 
> And there is Art because I am the most spoiled bug of all time.
> 
> One by the inimitable Hattie:  
> http://hattedhedgehog.tumblr.com/post/91180373832/smell-the-sea-and-feel-the-sky-is-a-pirate-au-in
> 
> and three by the ever-lovely Sparkle:  
> http://asparklethatisblue.tumblr.com/post/91159155393/in-which-dwalins-ship-is-never-quick-enough-to  
> http://asparklethatisblue.tumblr.com/post/91162047278/from-sea-and-sky-noris-a-pirate-captain-and  
> http://asparklethatisblue.tumblr.com/post/91255922293/vulpes-and-dwalin-noris-a-bit-much-sometimes


	11. silk rose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dwalin and Nori have another conversation. It goes about as well as the first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for homophobia this chapter

With the whole open sea, one might think two ships could keep out of each other's way.

If those two ships were the Cú Faoil and the Bloody Gannet, then apparently it was impossible. _Far_ too often they would catch sight of junk sails off in the distance.

Dwalin knew better than to try to give chase, but it chaffed him. All the more because the Gannet seemed to think they were _friends_ now.

Never did the mongrel sloop come into sight without running signal flags.

“What are they saying?” Dwalin demanded the first time. Harris shook his head, confusion written clear on his face.

“Just exchanging _news_ , Captain.” he answered.

“Don't trust them.” Dwalin instructed grimly.

“Nothing big or important, just... chatty.” Harris said, shrugging his own confusion as he neatly prepared the flags to answer. He read out the messages for Dwalin as they came in and sent back, and it was _not_ anything important. Just weather and fishing and a touch of gossip about Port Royal, which the Cú Faoil had not been to for a while.

 _What_ was Vulpes playing at now? Dwalin did not trust it.

He did not trust it, but he grew to expect it. When the Bloody Gannet signaled an approaching squall and recommended dropping sail – even as she sailed before it – Dwalin was glad enough they'd listened.

The Bloody Gannet was sighted far too often for Dwalin's liking, but at least his prizes were not cleared out before him as often. Which was not to say they _never_ were, which is what Dwalin would have preferred.

Dwalin glowered at junk sails on the horizon while Harris ran flags.

“Captain...” The first mate looked concerned, “The Gannet says there's a fat Spanish trader – gave us points and trajectory to waylay her.”

“Don't trust it.” Dwalin answered sharply, “Why isn't Vulpes going after her himself?”

“They say they're after a Dutch freighter, and can't catch both.”

“Damn _pirate_.” Dwalin growled, stomping away.

His crew were watching him hopefully. They'd heard the exchange – several of them were even queuing to send messages over to the Gannet.

When had his men _befriended_ the thorn in their side?

“It has to be a trap.” Dwalin pointed out. “A setup.” Oh, no doubt Vulpes and the crew of the Bloody Gannet wouldn't mind there being less competition on the ocean. Dwalin wouldn't put it past the pirate to collude with the Spanish. What might they have paid him to try to lure Dwalin into their clutches?

The crew was chuckling over an unflattering observation about the newest governor of Jamaica, nodding to each other over the reported size and tonnage of the Spanish ship – and her lack of guns – while very carefully _not_ looking at Dwalin.

Good men, loyal to a fault, but they _wanted_ that gold. A heavy prize, easy to take. None of them would argue with him on it. They knew better.

It _had_ to be a trap, didn't it?

The crew laughed as the Gannet replied to the latest banter they'd run up on the signal flag.

“Alright!” Dwalin relented in a snarl, “We go where the Bloody Gannet sends us, but we do it _cautiously_. We'll not run blindly into a trap!”

The crew broke into cheers, and Dwalin glowered at junk sails in the distance.

“The Gannet wish us fair wind and an easy hunt.” Harris read out. The Bloody Gannet did not seem to feel the need to wait for their reply. Dwalin watched their sails change and the mongrel ship begin sailing away faster than should be possible.

 

When the Cú Faoil found the Spanish trader just as rich and undefended as Vulpes had said it would be, it did not improve Dwalin's mood much. It was satisfying to load up on the gold and goods, but Dwalin did not trust it.

 _Why_ had Vulpes given them his prize? What might he expect in exchange.

But the pirate was not there to ask it of.

 

If Dwalin had thought being given the Spanish trader marked a change in the relationship with the Bloody Gannet, he'd have been proven wrong on their very next prize.

They had been laying in wait for a smaller trade ship, only to hear cannon fire. The Cú Faoil set sail as quickly as they could, but by the time they arrived what small fighting there had been was over and their prize was overrun by the crew of the Bloody Gannet.

Vulpes swept off his hat to bow deeply to them when Dwalin boarded, crew behind him.

“To what do we owe the pleasure of your company?” Vulpes asked, as if he did not _know_ who's prey he had taken. Everything in his sneering laugh said he'd been _expecting_ Dwalin.

“This ship is _mine_ , you ill-favored scavenger.” Dwalin growled.

Vulpes chuckled low in his chest, “Missed you too.” he purred, and Dwalin could feel his face heating at the way the pirate's eyes _caressed_ across him.

No. No he did not _want_ and he was not _going_ to want Vulpes - the thrust of his tongue and the nip of his teeth, muscles beneath his hands. The scent of coconut and gunpowder he'd tried to forget...

No.

One of the Bloody Gannet's crew came up from below with a big wheel of cheese, hacking off chunks of it with a big knife and flinging them to various crew members. It felt like _celebration_ on the ship – they were not even a little threatened by the crew of the Cú Faoil, but they _should_ be.

“Shall we leave the crews to their snacking and discuss terms?” Vulpes asked, gesturing toward the captain's cabin. Dwalin's fists clenched.

“You must think I'm stupid, to fall for that one again.” Dwalin said, holding his temper very carefully.

“Your crew wouldn't be caught off guard by it twice.” Vulpes answered, “They'd stop us loading up... but you won't begrudge us a few barrels of water and powder?” His voice dropped quieter at the end, earnest, stepping closer with storm-cloud eyes begging for understanding.

If they'd lost their water somewhere, that was never good news – and a pirate without gunpowder...

“Water and powder.” Dwalin agreed, “ _Nothing_ but water and powder comes out of this ship's hold until we're done negotiating!”

Vulpes nodded to concede the point, the twist of his mouth still far too sharp, “Bifur, you know what to do.” He ordered, “Make friendly.”

Vulpes lead on with a turn of his chin, and Dwalin followed the cocky swagger that had the tail of his long red braid sweeping across the round curve of his arse. Dwalin's crew were already exchanging greetings and being thrown hacked off pieces of cheese by the time the door of the captain's cabin closed behind them.

This time Dwalin was ready when the pirate began going through the trunks and cabinets. Let Vulpes steal like a common thief – he was no better than one.

“My crew gets all the gold, and three quarters of any other goods aboard.” Dwalin began, ignoring Vulpes picking the lock on a chest.

“Were your crew the ones who risked their lives boarding the ship?” Vulpes asked, “No. That was mine. Call _me_ a scavenger, you're the one who's now _twice_ tried to take my ships.”

“I am not going to let some underfed _runt_ take what is mine!” Dwalin growled, “I am a privateer for the Crown. This gold is for Crown and Country, now, and my family. Your country too, do you even _understand_ loyalty? Responsibility?”

“Not a reader, shame.” Vulpes sighed, looking into the last cabinet and ignoring Dwalin's argument, “Nothing in here but a bible. I _did_ get some books off that Dutch freighter, though. I could lend you Cats' _Sinne en Minnebeelden_?.. but you don't like poetry. De Swaen's _De gecroonde leerse_? That's funny.” Vulpes offered. He was going through a chest now, picking out silk shirts and holding them against himself thoughtfully. Most he was throwing back, but a few in a shimmering gray that almost held hints of violet he slung over his shoulder instead – obviously intending to keep them.

“I don't...” Dwalin started.

“Don't read Dutch?” Vulpes cut him off, “I think I have some John Dryden or a few...”

“I don't _read_.” Dwalin interrupted gruffly. Schooling had been all but wasted on him – he could piece together words given enough _time_ , but by the time he wrestled his way to the end of the page he'd forgot what was at the top. It had never come easy to him how it had the other boys – and it _stung_ in retrospect to have admitted that in front of a common _pirate_ who could read and in Spanish, Dutch... how many other languages?

And now that sharp-faced little snake of a man would laugh at him over it – just like the other boys at school. Dwalin, big ox probably sired by a common laborer, and wasn't his cuckold of a father a fool for trying to give him an education...

“Oh.” Vulpes said simply, shrugging and going back to pilfering things from the captain's cabin, “I never had much use for a Crown or Country that never had much use for me.” He said, wrapping a few bottles of cognac in the shirts and setting them on a dresser. It took a moment for Dwalin to catch up with the sudden answer to his accusation.

“You know, I picked up one of the volumes of _Sanguozhi_ in China.” Vulpes continued, switching topics again as he moved about the cabin, “ _Beautiful_ book. I can't read a word of it, but I keep it. I like to look at it sometimes. What's this?”

Vulpes had in his hand a pocketwatch, flicking the catch open to look at gray and lavender ribbons behind glass...

“That is _mine_!” Dwalin snarled, grabbing it out of the small man's hand. “They are my Lady's ribbons, from her own hair.” His _Lady's_ ribbons in the hand of a pirate, it did not even bear thinking of.

“...a married man.” Vulpes mused.

“Not married.” Dwalin defended, “She is too good for _any_ man to touch. She is a star descended from the heavenly orbs. She is a Goddess among men. I am not worthy to kiss her _boots_.”

Dwalin clutched the pocketwatch locket tight. He tried to think of his Lady, her sweet little boots and her lace gloves and the delicate column of her neck – her fingers running through his hair as she read to him. Think of her and not Vulpes' sharp smile, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips as he moved sinuously closer, his eyes reflecting green and bronze and _hunger_.

“Sounds lonely.” Vulpes murmured, reaching out to gently stroke the part of Dwalin's chest exposed by the open collar of his shirt. Outside the cabin their combined crews cheered and laughed at something as the ship rocked.

“My crew get _half_ of the take on this ship.” Dwalin powered through, shoving the pocketwatch back in his pocket as his heart began to pound, “I won't let you distract me this time!”

“Won't you?” Vuples asked softly, drawing his hand back just slightly and letting Dwalin's unconscious reaction of moving _toward_ it bring them back in contact. His smile widened and he chuckled that laugh that shook his body but did not quite leave his throat as he spread his hand to stroke more of Dwalin's chest.

He shouldn't... oh, he should not...

Vulpes' other hand was on the back of Dwalin's neck now, and he obeyed the tug that brought his mouth down for the pirate to kiss.

The small man's lips were so soft, and for a moment that was all it was – lips pressed together. Then there were soft little kisses sucking at Dwalin's bottom lip and he moaned as he answered them. Vulpes' hand was hard on the back of his neck, keeping him close as they kissed deep and long. Dwalin's own hands were on the pirate's hips, squeezing the roundest little arse and...

Dwalin shoved him away, stumbling back and sitting down hard on the captain's cot, banging his head on the overhanging shelf but it was more surprise than pain. He stared up at Vulpes' bright eyes, his reddened lips, the hungry way he was already moving back in for more.

“We'll be hanged.” Dwalin gasped out.

His oldest fear, ever since he was a lad and was a little _too_ attached to the beautiful blond angel of a boy in his school and Balin had taken to mentioning what _happened_ to men who were caught with other men. Balin warning him in his own gentle way, never accusing.

Dwalin was not supposed to _want_ this. Not supposed to notice the beauty of men at their work. Never supposed to kiss and hold and _want_... and he had his Lady, now. He had his _Lady_ he should be beyond wanting so desperately for a pirate like Vulpes to touch him.

“We're _pirates_.” Vulpes answered, standing over Dwalin now. He pressed a fingertip to Dwalin's chin, raising his head to look him in the eye, “We'll be hanged anyway.”

“Privateer.” Dwalin answered. There _was_ a difference.

“Like the Spanish care.” Vulpes snorted, “You heard what they did to Evert.”

“They got Evert...” Dwalin had not heard that. It was a dangerous job they worked, and there was no denying Evert had been a bit of a bastard. Still it was never good to hear that a colleague, no matter how distant, had been caught.

“Hanged and gibbeted with his letter of marque around his neck.” Vulpes answered, and his voice was softer. He leaned down to Dwalin's lips to kiss whisper gentle – as if to offer him comfort with it. The kiss only deepened when Dwalin answered, opening to him and moaning when the pirate took what was offered.

“It may be a crime on land, but we're at sea.” Vulpes breathed against his lips, nipping at them to make Dwalin whimper, the shiver of pleasure traveling hot down his spine. “Who's going to hang us for this? You hang your men when they take comfort with each other?”

Dwalin could feel his face turning red – more red than it had been to begin with. He _knew_ , of course, that they sometimes _did_... but...

“Not my business, 'long as nobody's hurt.” he answered gruffly. He did not _want_ to know specifics, and he certainly never judged anyone for whom the loneliness of the voyage became too much.

Vulpes made a pleased sound and kissed him again, longer, deeper, and Dwalin's hands were back on his hips again. Keeping him in close this time. Lean little man, all tight muscles and heat and fire. One of his thighs found its way between Dwalin's legs, pressing against his hard cockerel – _it_ had no doubts about this – and Dwalin nearly choked on his moan as he arched up into it.

“...and then the French _boucanier_ , from Hispaniola...” Vulpes continued, breathless, “They invented a thing – _matelotage_ – men partnered for life, sign a contract and all. To have and hold, in sickness and health, inherit all they own if one dies...”

That couldn't possibly _work_ could it? Two men?

“Got a few pair on my ship. Steadies everyone. Keeps things stable.” Vulpes continued, “Bet you'd have some if they had the option.”

But Dwalin was distracted by the pirate's rubbing thigh, the squeeze and flex of his arse under his hands, his mouth kissing him again. He was adrift in the _feel_ of Vulpes and the scent of gunpowder and coconut. Forever that scent would be _Vulpes_ and kisses he should not want. He would never be able to make himself forget it now.

Not after this. Not when he wanted so desperately, like it was burning out from behind his skin and he'd never be able to hold it in.

The ship rocked again and the crews on the deck cheered, somewhere forever far away.

Dwalin whimpered when Vulpes broke away, straining up against him, begging for more. _Don't stop_...

“God, I like you like this...” the pirate murmured, hands running across the breadth of Dwalin's shoulders, “So _willing_...”

Vulpes pushed back away from him, away from the hands that would have held him close and kept him.

“Think on that.” he said, straightening his clothes with a smile that was almost soft. He picked up the bundle of shirts and liquor he'd made earlier. “Half and half, did you offer? That does _sound_ reasonable, doesn't it?” Vulpes' smile turned sharper as he stepped back out of the cabin.

Dwalin sat and _breathed_ , trying once again to settle the spinning mind the pirate had left in his wake. What he'd said... what he'd _suggested_... Dwalin was going to have to sleep on it before it made _any_ sense.

... _and_ his abandoned cockerel, straining against the fabric of his trousers. Dwalin willed it to go down, _please_ go down, but even if it did he knew it would be back as soon as he had a moment alone.

Dwalin did not realize at first that anything was wrong, until there was a piercing whistle outside, a stampede of boots and cries of confusion as the Bloody Gannet shoved off.

Dwalin slammed out of the cabin to see his crew watching in confusion as the Bloody Gannet's junk sails were raised and she began to accelerate away.

A deep dread settled in the pit of his stomach.

 _Not again_.

“What did they take!?” Dwalin demanded.

“Only water.” he was answered, “Only water and powder, like you said. We watched!”

“Check the hold!” Dwalin ordered, not waiting to be obeyed as he grabbed a lamp and ran down the steep stairs into the dark to check for himself.

He was still standing, big hands clenched into fists, staring at what was left when Harris approached with the theory that the pirates had moved aside a few of the cannons and used the gun ports to jump from ship to ship. A dangerous move, but clearly effective.

“We didn't realize there even _were_ more crew than were up on the deck.” He apologized, and Dwalin waved him off.

He'd been played the fool again, and fallen right into that damn _pirate's_ trap.

Dwalin stared at what was left. A single gold bar, topped with a single rose beautifully crafted from the finest red silk cloth.

His bellow was wordless in his rage, and somewhere far away from himself he heard his crew go still and silent.

What Vulpes left behind was spat upon and flung into the ocean – the rose, that is. The gold bar was thrown into the Cú Faoil's hold, along with every curse Dwalin could call down upon a cocky red-haired pirate who couldn't leave Dwalin _alone_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there is art!  
> http://allysartsuff.tumblr.com/post/91381898398/hello-its-been-a-while-since-i-drew-a-fanart-of


	12. return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a short connective chapter. It was going to be longer, but then it wanted to stop here.
> 
> Fun stuff tomorrow, though!

“Captain, it's the Bloody Gannet, they're running flags to exchange news.” Harris looked apologetic when he said it, and Dwalin made a conscious effort not to take his anger out on his first mate. It was not _his_ fault.

It was no one but _Vulpes_ ' fault.

Dwalin stomped his way up to the deck and glowered at junk sails on the horizon. It had been a while since they'd seen them, but it was _still_ far too soon for Dwalin's liking.

“Signal back.” he ordered, “Tell Vulpes he can fuck himself with a fistful of nails.”

“Sir...” the first mate looked pained at what he was being asked to signal.

“Do it.” Dwalin ordered, and Harris subsided with a sigh. Dwalin smiled as the series of flags were raised.

“And now they are signaling back...” Harris was writing something down with one hand as he looked through the spyglass with the other. “Predictably, Vulpes says that is hurtful and recommends you kiss his arse better.”

Dwalin snarled and kicked the railing, “You can tell _him_ to...”

“Captain.” Harris interrupted quietly, “What purpose does it serve to trade insults? They did not fight us or damage the Cú Faoil, when they could have. How would _you_ respond if we took a ship and they boarded after us and demanded the treasure?”

Dwalin growled and kicked the railing again, but he _listened_ to Harris. He'd chosen him for first mate because he was methodical and even-tempered and Dwalin respected his opinion. That did not mean he always _liked_ it.

How would Dwalin have responded? Not as gently as Vulpes had, that was certain. Any response of Dwalin's would have ended in bloodshed, while Vulpes' response meant that while Dwalin's crew were disappointed, they were also already talking to each other about what messages to send to the pirates.

“He's not a fox, he's an _eel._ I hate him.” Dwalin grumbled, and stomped away to let the crew exchange news with the pirates. Harris read out the messages as they came in, and the crew laughed as they sent messages back.

“It's going faster than it used to.” Dwalin observed.

“We traded a code book of phrases at our last... meeting.” Harris supplied, and Dwalin glowered but said nothing.

Just as well they were heading back home now.

.

It was a late-night celebration when Nori came home. Dori was roused from his bed by a pounding on the back door and dressed himself as quickly as possible. By the time he made it out there was already a growing excited knot of pirates and staff in the hall.

Nori broke away from the group to leap onto Dori's arms, kissing both his cheeks and hugging tight. Dori held his family's pirate, his sister's only child, as tight as he dared.

“You made it home.” he said fondly, pushing Nori's shoulders back to see. Nori was heavy-speckled from the sun, wind-burned and bright eyed, crackling with suppressed energy.

“Told you the crew would look out for me.” Nori answered brightly, “We did _good_ this tour. I'll make you a rich man yet!”

“I'd rather have you safe.” Dori answered. There was no denying that Nori's treasure eased Dori's budgets considerably, but it ate at him when he thought of the risks.

There were too many tales, if you kept your ears open – and the ones you heard about were privateers. Nori didn't even have that protection.

“Hah! Safe is boring.” Nori answered, and sailed back into the crew – greeting the staff, getting the party going.

Chests of gold and silver were hauled up from the Bloody Gannet, along with raw silks and cottons and rare spices. A fire was started in the cove, and barrels of cider heated and spiced in a big pot over it for everyone to drink. Foods that Dori had been gathering for the ship's return were brought out and the staff and crew had an impromptu midnight feast.

Nori promised just a _short_ visit this time, before they headed back to sea. Just long enough to scour the ship's hull and re-tar her.

“It's a shame you missed Ori.” Dori answered. “He's missed you.”

“I'll write him a letter.” Nori promised, snuggling up to Dori's side as they watched the crew celebrate. Nori took a long thoughtful sip of the mulled cider before continuing cautiously.

“Do you... still have my dresses?” Nori's voice was almost inaudible under the other voices in the cove.

“Of course, child.” Dori soothed, laying a hand on Nori's arm. “All your things are waiting for you, if you want them. Your Jenny has kept them up to date – makes a good living as a seamstress, but we keep her on the pay rolls. She's always asking after you. She wouldn't mind coming back to the manor for as long as you need her.”

Nori's smile softened, losing all the pirate's hard edges in an instant. “Oh _good_ ... I've been missing being a Lady. Just for a _little_ while.”

“Whatever you need, my dear.” Dori assured gently. “You know... I was talking with master Balin and _he_ said he expected Captain Tavish to be coming home any day now...”

The light was not very bright, but it was enough for Dori to see the slight blush that stained Nori's cheeks.

“I know.” Nori answered.


	13. my wolfhound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nori gets a pebble in her boot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for a touch of casual misogyny this chapter. Balin is unfortunately a man of his era.  
> I do not agree with him.

When Dwalin returned to Sarnay the first thing he did – once the most pressing official business was taken care of – was go to the florist and have flowers sent to his Lady.

Winter daphne, both for its sweet scent and to communicate a desire to please.

He was invited out to the manor right away. Lady Norine was every bit as beautiful as he remembered her – moreso even. She was all lace and elegance and pale powdered curls, the corners of her eyes crinkling up in a smile when she saw him.

He nearly forgot how to breathe when she took both his big hands in her delicate lace-gloved ones to greet him.

Dwalin was saddened to learn that she was only on a very _brief_ visit to her Uncle, but glad enough that he had caught her at all. Every moment in his Lady's presence was a treasured gift.

They walked together after a meal where Dwalin hoped he had not made _too_ big a fool of himself, though they could not walk the sea cliffs near the cove. The recent rains had softened them and they were not safe.

They walked through the gardens, and when they returned to the manor Lady Norine read to him.

It was perfect, utterly perfect, and he told as much to Balin when he returned his brother's office in Port Gorey.

Dwalin was sitting in the corner paging through Balin's flower dictionary trying to find a drawing of the flowers his Lady had given him this time.

“I can see it was.” Balin smiled gently, “Try looking up bluebells.” he suggested.

Constancy, when Dwalin finally found it and pieced the word together.

“Constancy.” Balin repeated. His tone was filled with satisfaction, even as it pierced into Dwalin's heart, “Your fair Lady has remained true to her Knight errant, affection unchanged.”

Dwalin swallowed hard, looking down at the little spray of blue flowers. His Lady had been true, while _Dwalin_ had...

But that had not been him, had it? It had been the _pirate_ pursuing _him..._ but Dwalin had done nothing to stop him. He'd not wanted him to stop, had he?

“This is _good_ news, brother, is it not?” Balin asked, concerned. Dwalin gently closed the flower book and touched the petals of the flowers, careful not to bruise them.

As delicate as his Lady was.

“I am _hers_ , heart and soul.” Dwalin answered, looking up at Balin from beneath hunched shoulders, “But while I was at sea I...” he could not confess _what_ he had done, _who_ he had wanted. That when he was alone with his own hand it was vivid fantasies of a red-haired pirate forcing his head back with a handful of his hair and kissing him senseless that brought him off. He could _never_ have sullied his Lady thinking of her that way, but _still_...

“Ah, brother...” Balin waved it off, “You were away so very _long_. Men have needs, and women understand these things. No one could judge you for it.”

Balin ought to know. Balin knew _everything_ , and his own marriage was a very amiable one so long as he and his wife did not have to see each other more than twice a year.

And yet it still did not sit right with Dwalin. He ought to be better, to at least _try_ to be worthy of a such a Lady.

“Come,” Balin smiled, closing his account books for the night, “Let's find some water for your flowers, and then it is past time for bed. You ought to be well rested when you meet your Lady tomorrow!”

 

Dwalin was more than happy when Lady Norine found a way for them to escape. It was the last night before her departure, and there was a small ball being held in the largest manor on Sarnay. Gentry had come to attend from Guernsey and even as far as Jersey and Aldernay. It was apparently the _height_ of entertainment in the channel isles, but Dwalin had felt stiff and miserable and utterly out of place. Lady Norine had taken a few turns dancing with a few of the other Ladies, as Dwalin did not know the dances and no other man had asked her.

She had seemed to be enjoying herself, so Dwalin did his best not to make his discomfort known.

His sweet Lady finished her dance, kissed the air beside her companion's cheek, and sailed across the room to him. She picked up two cream puffs on the way – raspberry-cream filled. Her eyes were smiling at him, reflecting the gold of the lamps that lit the room, as she popped one in her mouth and held the other up to his lips.

It was delicious. Dwalin had not dared eat much, being unsure of the etiquette.

Lady Norine glanced around them, and seeing no one watching, grabbed his hand and _ran_. Dwalin could only follow as she whisked them around a corner and away through a set of french doors into the night. Her grip was stronger than he'd have expected.

She was giggling breathlessly when they stopped. She leaned her hand against his arm to steady herself. It was very dark out, and Dwalin was not _sure_ if it was proper for him to be alone with a Lady this way.

But Lady Norine would not have done it if it were wrong.

“Oh, I thought I was going to _die_ of boredom.” she finally said, “Thank you for escaping with me!” and Dwalin was quick to assure her that he did not mind in the slightest. He was happy to be with her, no matter where that was.

His eyes were beginning to adjust to the comparative darkness outdoors, after the brilliance of the ballroom. It was not such a dark night after all. The moon was not full, but over halfway to it – casting everything in silver and grays.

“I am terribly unladylike.” Lady Norine sighed, “Give me a good jig any day, over those staid old dances.” She demonstrated a few quick steps and then stopped, panting slightly and patting her chest. “This is _not_ the dress for that.”

Dwalin tore his eyes away from the straining half-moon orbs of her bosom, pressed up into perfection by her bodice, ashamed of himself. She was too good to be looked at that way, too _pure_.

“You are _everything_ a Lady should be.” He assured his Lady, and she laughed lightly.

“There, my eyes have adjusted.” Norine said, “How are yours?”

“Good enough.” Dwalin answered, and she tucked her hand affectionately through his elbow.

“Have you ever walked the hedge maze here?” She asked, leading him off across the grounds.

“No.” Dwalin answered, “...is it _wise_ to enter a maze at night?”

“It's perfectly safe. It's not a _maze_ , really.” Lady Norine assured him, “It's a labyrinth. There's only one path through it, but it's a lovely walk. Would you join me?”

“I would follow you anywhere, my Lady.” Dwalin answered truthfully, and she gave his arm an affectionate little squeeze.

“You _will_ go to my head.” she preened, and she did not seem at all upset about that.

The hedge maze was beautiful, even under moonlight. The paths were wide and carefully maintained, the pebbles gleaming like a river of silver underfoot. There were flowering bushes here and there, at the turns, perfuming the night air. There were little alcoves with benches tucked into quiet corners.

Lady Norine asked about where he would be sailing next, and Dwalin talked about his plans as they walked.

They passed the center point of the hedge maze, a statue that Dwalin did not pay too much attention to. Why look at cold carved stone when there was Lady Norine, powdered as pale as marble herself under the moonlight, but warm and smiling up at him with eyes as bright as the stars?

“Oh.” she flinched, leaning into his side and limping a step, “I've got a pebble in my shoe... Help me to the bench?” She gestured to a bench in a sheltered little nook, and Dwalin all but carried her to it. His Lady should never, _never_ hurt.

Lady Norine held out her precious little boot, lace and kid leather peeking out from the hem of her gown, “Could you...” She started, eyes deep as shadows, and Dwalin was sinking to his knees before she could finish, cradling her foot between his hands.

He could feel his heartbeat in his throat, the blood flushing his face as he looked up at her. The discomfort of the smooth pebbles beneath his knees was nothing as he looked up at his perfect Lady in the moonlight. She glanced down at her boot and then back to his face, and that was all the reminder he needed.

There was a buckle, and his big fingers hardly shook at all as he unfastened it, cradled her slender ankle in one hand as he slipped the tall-heeled boot from her foot.

He shook the pebble out of her boot, and would have put it back on straightaway but her stocking had a wrinkle in it. That would not be comfortable, and he gently tugged on it to straighten it.

Her toes curled up convulsively when his fingers brushed the inside curve of her arch, but her lips were curved in a gentle smile when he glanced up to be sure he was not doing wrong.

Encouraged by her expression he bent back to his task, meticulously straightening her stocking at her heel, at her ankle.

There was still a touch of wrinkle that ought to be smoothed up her calf and...

“I cannot.” he whispered, drawing his hand back. That much he _knew_ was too forward for a scarred old sailor, even if his Lady was too gentle to tell him to stop.

“Of course.” she said softly, and Dwalin closed his eyes as she leaned forward. He could hear the rustle of her skirts as she drew them up, the brush of her fingertips against his as she took over smoothing her stocking up her leg.

He tried desperately not to picture what that looked like. Such a Lady did not deserve to be imagined that way.

“There.” She said. There was a second rustle of skirts as her hem was dropped back over her leg.

Her stocking was perfectly smooth across her foot now, and Lady Norine pointed her toe for him to gently slip her boot back on her foot.

Dwalin carefully refastened her buckle, and then he was done.

But he was still cradling her boot between his hands, so delicate and beautiful. Everything she also was. One of his thumbs caressed the soft leather and lace. He was already on his knees, it would be so easy to lean forward just a little, lift her boot just _slightly_ , and press his lips to the toe...

He looked back up at his Lady. She would stop him. She deserved so much more, so much _better_ than a clumsy ox of a privateer, only good to be sent off to sea.

Lady Norine was breathing quickly, breast rising and falling, eyes wide and gleaming bright as the moon. She was nearly trembling as she watched him.

“Go on.” she breathed, a tiny flash of teeth in the moonlight as she just _slightly_ lifted her foot toward him.

As though she'd read his mind and what he so desperately wanted. As though she wanted it just as badly.

Dwalin slipped one hand back to cradle her ankle, lifting her sweet little boot, bowing his head over it.

Lady Norine, who was perfect the first time he saw her and perfect still and so kind to him. So patient. _Allowing_ him to worship her...

His eyes closed as he pressed his lips to the toe of her boot, and a second time. Daring for a third time just a little longer as her breath caught above him.

“Good boy.” she purred breathlessly as he reverently placed her boot back on the ground. Such simple words, but they washed through him – warmed him clear to the core. As if he'd been waiting his whole _life_ to hear them, and now he would do _anything_ to hear them again.

Lady Norine's hand surprised him, gentle against the side of his face. He still had not opened his eyes, and he nuzzled against her stroking hand. He could drift in her touch, his entire world her hand and the delicate rose scent on her wrists. The growing ache of his knees on the pebbles did not matter.

“Thank you.” He said, and it was not _enough_. Not nearly enough for what she had given him.

“Oh, I _am_ going to keep you.” she said warmly.

“Please.” Dwalin answered, nodding as he finally opened his eyes to look up at her. She had one lace-gloved hand across her mouth, but he could tell she was smiling as she gazed fondly down at him.

“You would like that, to be mine?” Norine asked, and he could only nod again. He was already hers, if she would have him even though she deserved better.

“Then you will be mine.” She said, “My fierce wolfhound on the sea.”

“My Lady.” he answered, “I will _try_ to be worthy of you.” She was so perfect, he could only _try_.

“You already are.” Lady Norine smiled, warm through him again until he thought he might actually weep. “But stand up now and dust off your knees. We have to return to the party before anyone notices.” she concluded.

Dwalin's knees were only a _little_ stiff and aching as he levered himself back to his feet. He took both Nori's offered hands to help her rise from the bench, and she tucked her hand in his elbow to lead him further through the labyrinth.

She leaned against his side more, now – held his arm tighter.

The evening's entertainment did not last much longer. Lady Norine did not dance again, but stayed with him – occasionally sending him for a glass of something to drink or a snack for them.

The way her bright eyes smiled at him kept his heart in his throat – but in the best possible way. His face flushed every time he remembered a breath of 'go on' and her boot beneath his lips.

Far too soon it was time for them to part ways – until the next time Dwalin visited Sarnay, and could only hope it coincided with a visit of hers to the island.

She offered him her hand to kiss, and he dared hold it after he had pressed his lips to her lace-clad knuckles.

“I am yours until we meet again, my Lady.” Dwalin promised, with his whole heart. He would be. He _had_ to be, for his Lady.

“May it be sooner than you think, my wolfhound.” she answered, giving his hand one last squeeze and sailing away from him. With one final shy smile over her shoulder, Lady Norine whisked her skirts through the door and was gone.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter

Nori took his turn at the helm of the Bloody Gannet. The wind was steady and the weather good, so there was not much to do. He leaned against the wheel and picked at the thin strip of leather around his wrist.

Ulmo the ship's cat twined around his legs purring for a moment before leaving to go patrol the ship again, and Nori smiled.

The Bloody Gannet was well provisioned thanks to Dori's sponsorship, and everything was going well for the hodge-podge ship and crew of pirates.

And for Nori, particularly.

Dwalin. He was far more a gentleman with a lady than any gentlemen _Nori_ had ever known. Nori had really hoped to be kissed as a lady, at the very least.

What Nori had gotten instead – he could feel heat suffusing his face, the muscles low in his stomach clenching at the thought.

Nori _wanted_ Dwalin, absolutely, but there was with that hunger something warmer and softer that Nori would be a fool to deny.

Dwalin had kissed her boot, all but unprompted – the _worship_ in his big brown eyes as he knelt at her feet. Kissed her boot and _thanked_ her for it.

Nori's wolfhound, though he did not yet know _who_ he had given that sweet promise to.

It was an intense vulnerability Dwalin had offered Nori there. More vulnerable than Nori was as a woman – because Nori was never unarmed. Dwalin had been utterly bare, the raw heart of him exposed. For all he was so big, a privateer with a tough reputation, Nori had just wanted to gather him up and protect him.

It was dangerous, most certainly. It was one thing for a man to be seen vulnerable before a woman, and another thing entirely for him to be vulnerable in front of another man. Dwalin might very well react with violence – the typical man's response to thinking someone might think he was weak.

But then... he might not. Dwalin was _unique_. He'd been _angry_ when Nori took ships he considered to be his, but he had not attacked Nori over it. He was devoted to Nori as Lady Norine, but did not press for any but the most innocent gestures. He _wanted_ Nori as Vulpes.

Nori wasn't sure he _could_ predict how Dwalin would react when he found out – and it was _when_ and not _if_. He'd figure it out eventually. He was too sharp not to.

And if he did take it badly, well... Nori _was_ never unarmed.

But that was a worry for another time. For the moment the wind was good and Nori was in a good mood, the Bloody Gannet making good time toward the Caribbean and treasure.

“Mine.” he mouthed. His wolfhound on the sea. Dwalin had promised to be _his_.

That meant were practically _engaged_ , weren't they?

That _definitely_ called for a celebration. The Bloody Gannet was going to precede the Cú Faoil to the islands by a healthy margin – plenty of time to set something up.

The crew would be happy about it too. Dwalin had a good crew, good men, if a touch homogenous. Nori's crew got along with them – and he knew for a fact that there was at least _one_ little romance brewing between them. Or at least the hope of one.

Be a shame not to give it the chance to grow.

Nori leaned against the wheel, and toyed with the thin leather bracelet around his wrist, and smiled.

.

Dwalin had _not_ expected the Bloody Gannet to hail the Cú Faoil before they even made it to a port to resupply.

“Captain, the flag they're flying, it means...”

“I know what it means.” Dwalin interrupted Harris. Green and white with a trumpet. The Cú Faoil were being invited to board the Bloody Gannet to exchange news – not that they _needed_ to board to exchange news.

“I don't trust it.” He said. Who knew what alliances Vulpes and the Bloody Gannet might have been making in the months they had been away? He could see his crew's disappointment as he said it, but they understood. Vulpes was unpredictable – offering good advice one day and stealing their targets the next.

“What are they playing at.” Dwalin wondered. They had _never_ invited the crew of the Cú Faoil aboard before. Where they just hoping to steal from their ship?

But the Cú Faoil had only just _arrived_ , their hold was all but empty, and Vulpes would know that.

“I can see their deck.” the lookout up in the crowsnest called down, looking through the spyglass, “They have green... coconuts, it must be. A big pile of them. And it looks like the crew are dancing.”

There were quiet moans among the crew at the thought of fresh coconuts, after so long a voyage. If they had coconuts they might even have _other_ fruit. The Cú Faoil didn't have _much_ to barter in trade for them, but even Dwalin felt the pangs of hunger for something fresh.

It should have been a carefully considered decision. Dwalin _was_ still angry at the cocky little pirate for stealing his prizes, and unsure of his trustworthiness. He should have been careful, but the thought of fresh fruit was too much.

“Make for the Bloody Gannet.” he ordered, and the crew broke into cheers.

He reached into his pocket to hold the pocketwatch locket that held his Lady's ribbons, and could only  _hope_ he was not making a terrible mistake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there is art of yesterday's boot kisses by the lovely Sparkle!  
> http://asparklethatisblue.tumblr.com/post/91769663668/my-fierce-wolfhound-of-the-sea-the-pirate-au-is


	15. stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is a party and we finally get some smut!

There was was a party in full sway on the Bloody Gannet by the time the Cú Faoil threw lines across to draw their ships together. Dwalin wanted to join the celebration as much as his men did, but he'd made sure to secure everything in the Cú Faoil. Even if anyone came aboard the deck they would not be able to explore any _more_ of the ship – and the gun ports were blocked, so there was no entrance that way either.

He was taking no chances. The lookout in the crowsnest had reported that there were no other ships in sight, so that was something.

“Welcome aboard!” Vulpes called out grandly as Dwalin led the way onto the Bloody Gannet. He had never been _on_ the ship before, for all he'd been close to her when they were both on a third ship. The cedar she was made of rang different under his boots. She was a clean boat, sturdy and well kept, though her rigging did not look near strong enough to hold her odd sails. She rocked differently from the Cú Faoil, weighted differently with a shallower draft and a more slender build, but it only took a moment for Dwalin to get his legs.

Meanwhile, Vulpes was still talking. He had draped himself like a cat on the rails, all sleek lines and relaxation with his long red braid flowing down across his shoulder. He was saying something about having come into some luck and just _happening_ to see 'our friends' looking travel worn and wanting to invite them to the celebration.

“We have coconuts, lemons, sugar, rum...” Vulpes waved his own coconut, “ _Very_ good together, help yourselves!”

Several of Vulpes' crew were expertly husking green coconuts, cutting the tops off so there was a perfectly sized hole to drink out of. The sugar was all being dipped out of the same barrel, the rum was all coming from the same barrel, and the coconuts and lemons were fresh and fragrant.

If they were being poisoned, they were both crews being poisoned together. Dwalin gave the nod, and his crew swarmed in to greet their friends and accept the offered coconuts.

Dwalin accepted one himself, with lemon and sugar and just a _little_ rum – wouldn't do to be off his guard – and settled back to drink his fill and keep watch.

If fresh coconut water with lemon weren't heaven, Dwalin didn't want to know what was.

There was music, drums and pipes, and Dwalin's own crew soon ran to get their own instruments to participate. There was dancing, with both crews showing off. Vulpes himself even joined in on a few of the faster jigs – much to his crew's cheering delight. The small man had quick toes and high jumps. He passed from partner to partner, laughing as he danced, and there was _something_... something in the way he moved... but Dwalin was busy with his fiddle and the dance was over. Vulpes flopped back against the rail with a fresh coconut before Dwalin could pin down what it was.

Later the Bloody Gannet's cook brought out a big pot of delicious turtle stew, and Dwalin's crew got their own hard tack to soak in it. They all ate from the same pot, first come, first served – it seemed Vulpes' ship had even _less_ difference between officers and crew than the Cú Faoil did.

There was more music, more laughter, more coconuts and rum. Both crews relaxed more as the celebration continued. The men were trying to impress each other, showing off their unique skills and those of their companions. There were feats of strength and agility, and Vulpes was cajoled into showing off his standing back handspring, which he followed with a backspring where his hands never reached for the deck and he seemed certain to snap his neck.

His silky red braid brushed the deck and he was back on his feet, taking a bow for the cheers and throwing a wink at Dwalin – who realized he was staring.

Where or _how_ someone would learn such a trick, Dwalin didn't know.

Dwalin stayed on his watch – barely drank any rum, though he took a liberal amount of coconut water with lemon – but it _seemed_ to be nothing but a celebration. It did spill over onto the Cú Faoil's deck for more room, but none of Vulpes' crew were caught trying to get anywhere they should not. The only problem the evening had was caused by one of Dwalin's own crew. The sailor was drunk, or else he would not have done it. Still, it was a poor excuse. He knew better, but he _still_ tried to grope one of the Gannet's resident Miskito strikers – the smaller woman, Mina.

By the time Dwalin realized what was happening, she'd ducked behind her larger companion, Nakili, who was drawing a knife with a shout and murder in her expression – and the Bloody Gannet's whole crew were up in arms. Two of them – the blond haired Boston boys – had grabbed Dwalin's sailor and were dragging him toward the rail to throw him over.

“Stop. Stop he _can't_ swim!” Dwalin roared, wading into it, but it was Vulpes' shout that spared his sailor and stopped _everyone_ in their tracks.

“Easy now boys...” Vulpes soothed, smooth as a snake as he sauntered out onto the deck. His sea-green eyes were hard behind the dark paint smudged across them when they met Dwalin's, “I didn't think that the ship's rule, that _no one_ was to be molested, needed to be _stated_.”

“It shouldn't have had to be.” Dwalin answered, “I'll deal with the discipline, don't drown my sailor.”

Vulpes met his eyes for a long moment before he nodded, “Let him go.” He ordered his crew, nodding to Dwalin, “As you see fit, Captain.”

The Boston boys shoved the terrified sailor at Dwalin, who gave him a shake. “What were you thinking?” he demanded, “You _weren't_. No more drink and dancing for you, you're confined to quarters. Sober up.” He gave the sailor a cuff to the back of the head and shoved him off into the hands of a few other of the Cú Faoil's crew, nodding to them. They knew what to do.

“My lads of the Cú Faoil!” Dwalin shouted, loud enough for them all to hear, “You're good men, every last one of you – but if it comes on you that you can't control yourself because you're drunk and there are handsome women present – then I'm ashamed to know you! Confine yourself to quarters at once!”

That ought to do it. His men were good men, some of them just needed a _reminder_ of that sometimes. None of them would want to miss the celebration – to be able to hear it but not participate.

“If anyone bothers Nakili and Mina, or anybody tries to _force_ anyone else, we're shoving off.” Vulpes added, and then quieter, just to Dwalin, “You have _one_ chance.”

Dwalin nodded his understanding. The pirates had welcomed them aboard the Bloody Gannet, but they had to protect their own. If Dwalin's crew were a problem, they'd throw them off. Literally.

And if Vulpes liked to steal Dwalin's prizes when he was marginally _friendly_ , Dwalin would hate to see how he was if he were angry at them.

“Make friendly.” Vulpes called out, swaggering back to his place to sip at his coconut. Dwalin did the same at his end – the separate poles of the celebration, both keeping watch.

The friendly atmosphere had been temporarily lost, but soon enough Vulpes' first mate, Bofur, told a joke – and there was laughter and the mood eased. Music started again soon, and the celebration continued.

That was the only problem the evening had. Everything else went well. Dwalin drank only lightly and kept an eye out, and the crews relaxed and enjoyed the rum and each other's company.

Lamps were lit as true night fell, and for a while the celebration grew rowdier. The water around the two bound ships was littered with coconut husks and the barrel of rum was running dry. There were wrestling matches, but they were all friendly and in good fun.

The energy of the celebration tapered off eventually as sailors grew tired and either retired to their hammocks or fell asleep on quiet corners of the deck. It was a warm night, and clear. Dwalin could see the appeal of staying up in the air instead of going below. There were a few couples, curling up together, kissing and touching in darkened corners. Vulpes had mentioned there were some on his crew so Dwalin was not _too_ surprised – until he recognized some of his _own_ crew participating.

He looked away quickly. It was none of his business, and he really did not want to know, beyond the fact that it had seemed to be _enthusiastically_ mutual. They weren't being hurt or hurting anyone. None of his business.

Dwalin migrated to the Gannet's quarterdeck, above Vulpes' cabin. They had two cannons mounted up there, big ones, and Dwalin was suddenly glad he'd never gotten too close in his pursuit of the ship. He had a feeling it would not have ended well for the Cú Faoil. He still had a little tobacco, and packed a pipe for a quiet smoke, leaning comfortably against one of the cannons.

He was not halfway done when he was joined. Vulpes swung his easy way up the ladder. Dwalin did not know how much the pirate had drunk, but he was not swaying any more than necessary to ride the ship.

Vulpes pulled the ladder up behind him _._ There would be no one following them up here.

Dwalin could _feel_ the string of tension between them pull tight – like a noose around his neck. He had accepted the pirate's hospitality for a taste of coconut water and lemon after a long voyage, and there would be a price to pay for it.

If Vulpes could feel the tension too, he ignored it. He grinned like the fox he took as his namesake as he lounged out on the opposite cannon, practically _displaying_ himself with his eyes reflecting the deep blue dark of the night and the flickering gold of the lamp. All loose graceful limbs and soft lines, but so was a whip or a snake before it struck.

The small man licked his lips, soft pink and now glistening in the lamplight as he lazily looked Dwalin over.

Dwalin looked away sharply, drawing on his pipe and ignoring the heat of his collar. Vulpes was _dangerous_ , and he could not forget that. The moment Dwalin dropped his guard the pirate would take every advantage, and Dwalin did not even _know_ what he planned to steal this time.

And he'd _promised_ his Lady, his sweet Norine with her touch like grace as he knelt at her feet.

It was one thing – a private shame – if he dreamed of being kissed by the pirate, and another entirely to actually _let_ him. To _encourage_ him. To want his touch like fire beneath his skin where it could not be put out.

“Why?” Dwalin asked, and he did not himself know what he was asking, just that _something_ needed to be said to cut the heavy silence between them.

“Your crew loves you.” Vulpes answered, after a thought. “Your men respect you, and you them. You're not known for cruelty, even to those you capture. My crew like your crew, and I respect their judgment.”

There was still that hard sneering edge to the pirate's voice, but that was just how he _spoke_. None of what he'd said sounded like it was meant as a joke or an insult. It was, all of it, the kind of captain Dwalin _tried_ to be. He did not know how he felt about a _pirate_ thinking it of him.

He puffed the last of his pipe and knocked it out over the side of the ship, but did not put it away, turning it in his hands to have something to _do_ with them.

“I don't trust you.” He answered.

“Smart of you.” Vulpes purred.

“I don't know what you're doing.” Dwalin continued, twisting the pipe between his fingers until he was afraid he'd break it and shoved it into his pocket, “I don't know why you did all this.” Dwalin gestured to their ships and crew, lying around in drifts together – some still drinking, and a few singing a song that sounded sad in a language he did not know.

“I don't know what you're going to take in exchange.” Dwalin finished.

Vulpes was smiling when Dwalin glanced back toward the small man, sharp and hungry, sinuously rearranging himself on his cannon as if he were going to pounce. Dwalin could feel his heartbeat in his throat, in the tips of his fingers.

“Is a kiss too high a price?” Vulpes asked, stretching up to turn down the lamp's wick – snuffing it out and plunging them into darkness.

Dwalin's hairs were standing up on the back of his neck, suddenly blind, the ache of desire he _should not_ thick in the back of his throat.

“You'll laugh at me and leave me wanting.” Dwalin's voice answered, hardly more than a whisper, when he _should_ have been saying all the reasons why it _was_ too much and he should not.

Vulpes' touch was gentle in the dark, a soft stroke to the side of his face that was _far_ too much like the way his Lady had touched him.

“Am I so cruel to you, wolfhound?” Vulpes asked, a shadow moving around him in the dark, “And if I promise _not_ to leave you wanting?” his voice was quiet but rich with promise. His body was not _quite_ touching Dwalin's, but close enough he could feel the heat of him all across his front.

Dwalin's voice made something like a whimper as he broke, grabbing the pirate to crush their bodies together, searching for the smaller man's mouth with his own.

Vulpes answered him hungrily, their noses bumping before their lips found each other. Dwalin gasped as his bottom lip was bitten sharply. He was shoved back against the cannon and the rails as Vulpes used both and his own body to climb up above him.

The pirate was fire, and Dwalin nothing but the fuel to feed him as he was kissed deep and long. Devoured. His mouth taken and owned. His hands were grabbing Vulpes, holding him up, squeezing at his muscles as they kissed. There was no scent of gunpowder smoke this time, just coconuts and lemon and the taste of rum in his mouth.

Vulpes' hands made it into Dwalin's hair, a fistful grabbed and tugged as the pirate nipped at his bottom lip again. Dwalin melted against it with a groan even as his hips jerked up, thrusting hopelessly against air.

“You _like_ that.” Vulpes breathed against his lips, and Dwalin could only answer by stretching up against him to kiss again. His hands were stroking the tight curve of the pirate's back, fingers finding and wrapping around the smooth rope of his braid – thick and beautiful and strong.

Vulpes purred into the attention, stretching like a cat beneath Dwalin's hands, even as one of his own found its way into Dwalin's clothes. He could not even protest, with Vulpes' other hand in his hair, kneading at it, pulling _just right_ as he forced Dwalin's head back to kiss him deep. Dwalin's clothes were untied, unbuttoned and unbuckled and left in disarray as Vulpes' hand explored his skin. Stroked across his stomach and kneaded at his pectorals – tugged on his chest hair in counterpoint to the hair at the back of his head while Vulpes thrust with his tongue into Dwalin's mouth until there was no word more dignified than squirming for what Dwalin was doing. He was left with no dignity at all, propped up between the cannon and the rail in the dark, his hips fruitlessly searching for friction as he moaned quietly into Vulpes' mouth.

Vulpes hissed at him when he tried to reach under the smaller man's clothes, to reciprocate, so all he could do was hold on to him. All he could do was _feel_. Fire beneath his skin and Vulpes' soft soft lips and sharp teeth. In the dark it could almost have been a dream, a fantasy of Dwalin's alone in his cabin, but it was not. It was far too real and his own and Vulpes' crew were nearby and yet a world away. The two of them were alone up on the quarterdeck and the pirate's touch was Dwalin's entire world.

An eternity later the small man's hand slid down his chest and stomach, slicked with the beading of Dwalin's sweat – slid finally all the way down into his trousers to touch him.

Dwalin sucked on air as his body jolted, somehow remembering not to gasp aloud as he thrust into the tight squeeze of Vulpes' hand. Oh, he would not last with his bottom lip caught tight between the pirate's teeth again, shuddering and moaning between the pain and the pleasure. His lip would be red and sore later, but he _did not_ care. He could only hope that there was enough sound from those still celebrating, and anyone else kissing in the darker corners of the deck, for his own sounds to go unnoticed – unattributed to _him_.

“Good boy, so big, so hard for me.” Vulpes murmured, and Dwalin's entire body arched like a bow at the praise, utterly beyond his control. He was close already, _so close_ as he panted desperately against Vulpes' lips.

“I'm going to suck you off. Feel you. _Taste_ you. Would you like that?” Vulpes asked, with a firmer squeeze to Dwalin's cockerel.

“Vulpes...” Dwalin was not sure he was _capable_ of more words than a whimper of his name, but it seemed to be answer enough for the pirate. The little man kissed him deep one last time before he crawled down from cannon and railing to settle between Dwalin's spread legs.

“Hold still.” He warned, drawing Dwalin's cockerel from his trousers, his whisper breath and lips warm-teasing against it, “Choke me and I'll leave you to your own hand.”

“Please.” Dwalin begged, forcing his hips to perfect stillness as he braced himself firmer between the cannon and the rails.

Vulpes' first lick was teasing-soft, flicking gently up his length. Then he slowly drew back all of Dwalin's foreskin to leave him utterly exposed and ran just the thin _tip_ of his tongue around the edge of his head and _already_ Dwalin was trembling all over.

“Please.” he gasped again, and Vulpes' soft lips closed around just the head of his cockerel – slick and warm and tight as he tongued at the slit.

“Tell me how good it feels.” Vulpes ordered, breath a shiver of cold against Dwalin's spit-damp cockerel for a moment before he'd pressed it in deeper, stroking it smooth and long as he bobbed his head. Tight lips and soft heat and his clever tongue _everywhere_.

“Oh, God.” Dwalin was not sure he _could_ describe how good it was as he fought to hold still, to keep his voice to a whisper. His blunt nails scrabbled uselessly against the cannon, the railing.

“So hot. So tight and perfect. God's mercy your _tongue_... pleasedon'tstop... _Vulpes_!” Dwalin choked on the last word, the pleasure too much and breaking hot and deadly as he spent.

He could not move his hips, could not thrust on the deepest instinct, but the rest of him fought in response. The railing creaked beneath the power of his arm, the cannon shifted on its rails. He threw his head back to the stars and he'd have screamed if he could, howled like a dog, but all he could let go was a hiss like steam. The only sound he made was when his leg kicked out and stomped on the deck before he could stop himself.

And Vulpes was not stopping, purring like a cat as he worked Dwalin's cockerel until the sensitivity was too much and he pulled away with a whimper.

His knees forsook him after a valiant fight, and Dwalin sank down to the deck with the pirate. His hands were shaking as he tucked himself away, and then he was reaching for Vulpes. He pulled the little man into his arms, kissed his face and neck.

“Please let me.” he whispered, “Please, I can...” as he tried to reach into the pirate's clothes, pleasure him, give him as good as he'd been given. He could already practically _taste_ the salt musk of his cockerel in his mouth.

“No...” Vulpes' hands stopped his, and Dwalin fell into obedient stillness. His lips were gently kissed – the bitterness of his own seed on the pirate's mouth – his cheek, his neck, while Vulpes held his hands still in his lap.

“Save it.” Vulpes murmured warm against his ear, “Think of me when you worship at the altar of your Lady's pearl.”

He followed it with a soft moan and a lavish lick of his clever tongue against Dwalin's ear, so he'd have known what he was referring to even if he had _not_ heard that euphemism before.

Vulpes slipped out of his arms before Dwalin could even react, dropping the ladder back into place and sliding down it to rejoin his crew on the main deck.

And Dwalin was left alone with the stars and himself.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there is a lovely photoset compiled by withwindlesdaughter!  
> http://withywindlesdaughter.tumblr.com/post/91796920453/smell-the-sea-and-feel-the-sky-by-thorinsmut


	16. the nerve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the aftermath of the party

Nori was _still_ pleasantly sauced when he woke up to the first pale light of dawn. He was half on top of Bifur and half underneath Bofur, and Dwalin was quietly attempting to sort his own sailors out and send them to his ship. Nori watched the big privateer covertly from beneath his lashes, though his smile would likely give him away.

Oh, he was _perfect_ , the way he'd been trembling beneath Nori's attention. Nori had not been so drunk he could not remember Dwalin's wanton hunger, the feel of his big cock in his hand and his mouth, the taste of his seed.

Nori licked his lips. _That_ was going to be a fond memory.

He carefully squirmed his way out from under Bofur and made for his cabin. His bladder privately taken care of, and a large cup of water drunk so his head would not hate him too much once he sobered up, he went to help Dwalin separate sailors.

Dwalin's method was not very efficient.

Nori went for the ship's bell and began ringing it, to wails of distress and disbelief.

“It's shoving off time!” Nori shouted once the dead had been raised, ignoring various threats about using his skull as a cannonball, “Anyone on the wrong ship in five minutes will be conscripted as a swabbie!”

It was not the kindest, but it worked. Nori's crew staggered over from the Cú Faoil to collapse onto the Bloody Gannet's deck, Dwalin's did the opposite. There were a few tender goodbyes, and a few awkward ones. Nori saw Dwalin try not to notice those of his crew who emerged from the Bloody Gannet's crew quarters looking sated and rumpled.

Nori was gathering up those who were sober enough to help raise the sails and plot a course, the promised five minutes a few minutes over, when Dwalin's first mate Harris emerged from the depths of the Bloody Gannet. His clothes were half on and half held in his arms, his eyes wide, his hair wild, and an impressive array of purpling suck-marks on his neck. The Boston boys' work if Nori'd ever seen it.

He was very red about the face as he jumped across to the Cú Faoil, nodded to a clearly shocked Dwalin, and disappeared himself into the ship to make himself decent, no doubt.

“Captain Vulpes.” Dwalin said, nodding stiffly as they unfastened their ships.

“Cap'n Tavish.” Nori answered, with a wink as they threw off the last of the lines and began to drift apart, “We should do this again.” he suggested, and had the pleasure of seeing Dwalin flush red up his neck.

Nori gave a brief mock-salute and made his way back to Bifur and Bofur to nap off the rest of his drunkenness. They'd only bothered raising one sail, so they could make do with only a few not _very_ drunk crew to man the ship.

Nori threw his arm over his eyes to block the light and snuggled down to sleep.

 

“That _bastard!”_ Nori woke with a jolt, the words out of his mouth before he was all the way awake. The sun was too warm for sleeping on the deck anymore anyway, he felt hot and prickly, but that was not the main problem.

“He cheated on me!” Nori growled.

“Who?” Bofur asked, and Nori resisted Bifur's gentle hands trying to get him to lay down again.

“He promised himself to me, and then I come along and what? Jumps right into my bed and doesn't even spare me a thought!” The _nerve_ of Dwalin!

“But... if it's you and you... he's not...” Bofur waved a hand vaguely.

“ _He_ doesn't know that!” Nori protested, “I could have been anyone for all he knew!”

“You rather he resisted?” Bofur asked.

“Yes!” Nori answered... and then thought it through. If Dwalin had resisted him, he wouldn't have gotten to have Dwalin. “No!” But that meant that Dwalin was cheating on him, with him, “I don't know!”

And now Bofur was laughing at him.

“ _Sleep_.” Bifur signed, tapping Nori on the arm to catch his attention, and this time Nori did not fight against being tucked against the older man's side to sleep some more. That didn't mean he stopped grumbling though.

The _nerve_.

 


	17. the velvet darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things do not go well, and then they go a bit better, and then they do not go well at _all_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING  
> please be aware of changed tags. This fic is now tagged for Graphic Depictions of Violence.  
> Things do not go well.

The Cú Faoil limped along on emergency patchwork and half her sails, painfully slow.

Dwalin chewed his lip as he eyed the coastline they followed.

He did not recognize where they were. None of his sailors did. They were working on it, but could not place themselves on a map yet. They were south of where they wanted to be, they knew, but how far they could not tell.

The storm had been brutal. There was no telling _how_ far off course it had blown them.

It had been a short trip to the Caribbean for Dwalin and his crew this time, or they'd have been an ocean away from the storm that had nearly taken them on their way home. They could so easily have been just another sad footnote – lost with all hands, no one knowing where they had gone.

It had been a short trip to the Carribean, and after the impromptu celebration when they arrived they had seen and heard _nothing_ of the Bloody Gannet or her captain and crew.

Dwalin was _painfully_ glad of that, but he could see enough of his sailors felt the opposite that he said nothing. His crew _liked_ Vulpes' crew – some of them might even _love_ them, and who was Dwalin to judge?

Especially now.

Dwalin had had perhaps the most awkward possible conversation with his first mate – to be sure the deep purple marks the small man could not _completely_ cover with long sleeves and a tall collar were consensually acquired.

“Yes, I... I did want. They did not do anything I... ah...” Harris, already deep red, turned even more red as Dwalin's mind stuttered over 'they'. _More than one_. Harris, who was always so proper.

“Good.” Dwalin said gruffly, looking out to sea and likely as red as his first mate. “And the rest of the men? Everyone is... uh...” he waved vaguely.

“I... have heard no complaints, sir.” Harris answered.

“Good.” Dwalin said again, and with that the conversation was dropped and the topic ignored as though it had never been discussed.

Dwalin's men had no complaints, other than those common to those suffering hangovers. He could not even complain himself. Vulpes had _asked_ , had _offered_.

Dwalin had taken him up on it of his own choice.

Recriminations turned in Dwalin's mind. He knelt at his Lady's feet and she took him as hers though she deserved better, he carried her ribbons wherever he went. He was _hers_ , heart and soul – but not, it seemed, _body_. He was so _weak_ , and she deserved better of him.

He should never have boarded Vulpes' ship. He should never have taken himself up to the quarterdeck by himself. He should have _left_ the quarterdeck when Vulpes joined him, should never have let himself be alone with the pirate. He could not resist him, did not _want_ to resist him, and Vulpes _knew_ it – damn him. He put his teeth in Dwalin's lip and Dwalin was putty in his hands.

He could hate himself for that.

Dwalin was never _supposed_ to want men, but Vulpes – tiny and fierce – was everything his body ached for. There was a fire in Dwalin's veins and it burned for the pirate.

He wished he could forget the force of the small man's kisses, the nip of his teeth, the heat of his mouth and the perfect cleverness of his tongue. He wished he could forget how _good_ it felt. He wished he did not find himself dreaming of doing it again – of _more_ – of being used for the pirate's pleasure. He wished he did not feel lingeringly guilty about not having gotten the pirate off too.

Dwalin wished Vulpes' parting whisper had not gotten lodged in his mind, that he did not find himself accidentally picturing his Lady spread bare before him – the taste of her tart musk and sounds of her sighs as he worked between her legs.

His sweet innocent Norine, who did not deserve to be sullied that way in his mind – as though she were some common hussy.

No, Dwalin was _glad_ they had seen to sign of junk sails on the horizon in their brief visit to the Caribbean. He was glad, but could see the wistful longing in enough of his sailors that he said nothing. He would not hurt his men that way.

He wished he had never _met_ that damn pirate. He'd be glad enough to _never_ see his sails on the horizon again.

...or so Dwalin thought, until there was a storm that crippled the Cú Faoil and they limped along a coastline – unsure how far from home they were. Both terrified of- and hoping to- come across another ship to find out where they _were_.

Some of the sailors said there had been another ship in the storm – voices shouting on the wind, the sound of a bell and the flickering light of storm lamps. It was unlikely, out on the open sea, but maybe it was true.

There were happy shouts when junk sails were spotted on the horizon, tired battered sailors straining their eyes out toward their friends.

Harris had the spyglass, watching the pirate ship as he raised signal flags.

“...see if they know where we are.” he mentioned, blanching as they answered.

“Coast of Spain.” he said, grimly, “ _Southern_ Spain.”

Dwalin did not let himself groan as his crew stilled in nervousness. He had to be strong and sure for them. Southern Spain. That was a _lot_ of sea under enemy sway to sail through. They were privateers, they _should_ be safe, but Dwalin knew they could not count on that. They would be sailing around Spain and Portugal, up to France and home to the channel isles. They were sitting ducks on half their sails and emergency patches.

“Forewarned is forearmed.” Dwalin said firmly, loud enough for the crew to hear, “We will be cautious and quiet. We will ration what we have, and we will make it home!”

It would be short rations, with so many of their supplies damaged in the storm, but they would make it. They _had_ to.

“They wish us luck.” Harris said, reading the Bloody Gannet's signal flags, “They are doing the same.”

“Thank them.” Dwalin said simply, and went to work planning how they would make it to friendly waters, and then home.

 

The Bloody Gannet disappeared and reappeared – never nearby, but Dwalin had a feeling they were never far away.

Most of the time they did not signal, and Dwalin saw no need to signal them. He did not know why they were staying close, when it was clear they had not taken as much damage as the Cú Faoil and could have easily left them behind.

He knew it gave his sailors comfort to know they were not alone here, but he did not know why they did it.

“Captain...” Dwalin could hear the relief in Harris' voice, reading the Bloody Gannet's signal flags, “They've found a safe port, where they won't ask questions. It's small – but they say we can get food, water, and tar.”

“Thank God.” Dwalin breathed as Harris got directions to the port. Two more barrels of the fresh water had just been discovered to be contaminated with salt – undrinkable – and their makeshift patches meant the bilge pump had to be worked-near constantly. Water, tar, and food. The things they needed most.

It was only as they sailed their limping way into the little Portuguese fishing village that Dwalin realized he had not even questioned Vulpes' motives, or if he might betray them.

As luck had it, the village was everything the pirate had said it was, and nothing more.

The Cú Faoil sailed on, limping still but with a little more hope. Having enough drinking water and a hull that slightly less resembled a sieve could do that.

 

It was afternoon when they were captured.

It was not even a very large or fast Spanish ship that caught them. Normally they'd have outrun her easily, or beaten her in combat. Normally they would not be all but unarmed, with the little powder they had left over after their trip all wet and ruined.

Their situation was not normal, and they _were_ taken.

There was brief cannonfire, slightly longer of gunfire, and then Dwalin and _most_ of his crew were bound on the deck of the Cú Faoil.

The heat of the afternoon sun blazed down on them, and they were not given water. They were not beaten and or battered _too_ badly, which might have given them hope, but Dwalin _did_ understand enough Spanish to overhear that they were to be executed.

He did not say it, did not want to worry his men – though there was really no hope. Harris had understood it too and tried to argue – they were _privateers_ , not pirates – but he'd been struck on the temple with the butt of a musket and wilted silent to the deck.

Dwalin had snarled and fought, shouting at the Spanish officers until they'd threatened to hit the little cabin boys next and he was forced to silence to protect them.

They were not crying, brave lads, bearing it as well as the men. Good men, all of them – and they were going to die for loyalty to him.

Harris _was_ breathing, but he remained still and unconscious on the deck – or so Dwalin was forced to think until there was space around them – no guards too close. Harris' eyes had popped open immediately and found Dwalin's as he mouthed that he was fine. Dwalin gave him a tiny nod, and his first mate gave him a grim smile back before he returned to feigning unconsciousness.

Dwalin did not know what good it might do to have Harris underestimated, when he _was_ still bound, but it did his heart good to know that he _was_ thinking, planning.

He, at least, still had hope.

It was very possibly the longest afternoon of Dwalin's life. Some of his crew were allowed to be unbound for short amounts of time to work the bilge pump, but even _they_ were given no water and Dwalin feared for them. He could see their exhaustion.

Perhaps the Spanish meant to have them dead – or nearly so – before they made it to port. It was cruel, too cruel. _Dwalin_ would never have treated a prisoner so.

There was some relief when the sun went down. They were still thirsty, all of them, but at least it was cooler.

The Spanish decided they could not sail both ships and guard the prisoners at night, so they lashed the two ships together. They changed the guard and mocked Dwalin's crew, eating and drinking in front of them.

Dwalin saw the desperation in the eyes of his crew, and he hated their captors with a pure and undying hatred.

They were not baking beneath the sun any longer, but there was _still_ no hope.

 

The attack came with no warning – for the Spanish at least. The crew of the Cú Faoil, familiar with her every mood, had felt the change in their ship's rocking. They could feel she was growing heavier on the side furthest from the Spanish ship, though none of them could guess why.

Dwalin's crew looked at each other, at him. None of them had answers, but if the ship were going down Dwalin could only hope the Spanish drowned with them.

Dwalin could see the alert tension in every member of his crew. There was _something_ on the air, but the Spanish did not sense it. Dwalin was not the only one straining their ears out into the velvet silence of the night.

There was a slight hissing sound, very faint, and Dwalin threw himself prostrate on the deck in example to his crew as cannons blazed to light in a crippling broadside to the Spanish ship.

At the same instant the crew of the Bloody Gannet swarmed up over the edge of the Cú Faoil – screaming in full battle rage against the terrified screaming of the Spanish – Vulpes at their lead.

He opened with a blunderbuss in each hand, wide shots for crowd control, tearing through groups of the enemy. Vulpes' face was twisted, mouth open in a scream. The heavy streak of dark paint smudged across his eyes to turned him into a part of the night himself – fire and death reflecting in his everchanging eyes as he strode forward.

Dwalin had _seen_ him ready for battle, pistols strapped all over him, but he had never imagined how he would _look_ in a fight. He fired again and again through the growing smoke as he took the ship step by step, no sooner a pistol fired than it was put away and and a new one grabbed out.

He fired blunderbuss after blunderbuss, switching next to the more accurate dragoons, and finally to the turn-off pistols with the longest range.

He was surrounded by his crew – whoever was not on the Gannet, still firing her cannons at the Spanish ship - but it was _Vulpes_ Dwalin could not look away from. Red braid blazing like fire in the lamplight – no quarter given beneath that red flag as he attacked without fear, and his men behind him.

It was not possible. Dwalin had not dared dream of it. Pirates _had_ no loyalty. They would do _nothing_ that was not to their advantage – and how could risking themselves this way be to their advantage? It was no treasure ship that had captured them. There would be no rich reward.

And yet here he was, unasked.

Vulpes paused, crouching over Dwalin. A quick slash of his knife and Dwalin's hands were free, to have the curved knife and a turn-off pistol with shot and a powder horn shoved into them.

The pirate had not even looked at him - but looking up into that narrow face, alive with fury, Dwalin's heart twisted in something that might have been love. Vulpes strode on, he and his crew pushing the Spanish back toward their own ship – still under fire, utterly unprepared and barely able to answer.

Vulpes was screaming, but Dwalin could not pick his voice out of all the others. He used the knife to free Harris, the others nearest him – the gun to pick off the Spanish when he could spot them through the thick growing smoke of battle.

Vulpes had used all his pistols and now had to reload after every shot like the rest of them.

Dwalin _saw_ him stagger back and take to one knee in the billowing smoke, but his hands never stilled in his reloading – screwing the barrel back onto his turn-off pistol and firing it, only to reopen it to load again.

It was only when he started to list to the side, curling in on himself, that Dwalin noticed the dark gleaming red stain gushing down his side.

Dwalin shouted the pirate's name, horror frozen in his throat – and he _could not_ reach him in time.

The Bloody Gannet had drawn up to the side of the Spanish ship. Bofur was shouting something, a name Dwalin could not understand as Vulpes slumped further onto the deck. The big Yoruba man, Taiwo, burst out of the smoke and scooped the little pirate unresisting into his arms. As one the crew of the Bloody Gannet fled back to their ship – carrying their dead and injured with them as they ran.

For an instant lamplight reflected off ragged junk sails. The Spanish had managed to get a few rounds off into their sails, but they raised them regardless. They filled with wind, holding when any sensible sail would have shredded if used so damaged, and the beautiful mongrel of a pirate ship disappeared as silently into the night as they had come.

The pirate's name was still screaming out of Dwalin's throat.

Vulpes. He was so small, so beautiful and so brave... for _Dwalin_ , who had never done anything for him...

The last few surviving Spanish sailors surrendered, and Dwalin and his crew let them live, leaving them on their heavily battered ship. They took most of their sails for their own ship, but they let them keep their food and water – though not any of their weapons or powder.

Dwalin had all his men checked and tended for injuries, honored their dead and made sure every last man of them had water. First those who had been made to work the bilge pump, and then on up through the ranks – Dwalin himself last of all.

They sailed faster with their stolen sails, and Dwalin strained his eyes out into the dark for a pirate ship they would never see if it did not want to be seen.

Vulpes.

The vision of him crumpling over – eyes blazing and all his teeth bared, hands still reloading his gun, side thick with the gleam of blood – played over and over in Dwalin's mind.

There had been _so much_ blood.

Dwalin tucked Vulpes' curved knife and beautifully maintained pistol into his own belt.

“Why?” he breathed out into the dark.

The dark had no answer for him.


	18. injured

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nori comes home

There was no celebration when Nori came home this time.

There was a pounding on the back door in the night, and the shocked and worried exclamations of the staff told Dori enough that he was up and wrapped in his dressing gown before anyone could come fetch him.

Nori was limp and pale in the arms of one of the Bloody Gannet's sailors, the biggest African man, Taiwo. For a single crystallized moment of horror Dori thought Nori was _dead_ – sweet little Nori, his sister's only child. He stumbled back, hand across his mouth.

Ori had come out of his own room, blinking the sleep from his eyes as he put his glasses on, and it was clear he thought the same from the ragged denial that burst out of his throat.

Nori looked up at Ori's cry, attempting a weak smile through the lines of pain etched deep around tired eyes. Dori caught himself against the wall in relief.

“What happened.” He demanded, and the whole story came out as Nori was settled into the bed – as Jenny and the _quiet_ local doctor were called for. Dori was not the only gentleman who was visited by a pirate – and Oin was the one they all called.

“They were going to execute him.” Nori said, tears in the corners of gray-gold eyes. “What else could I do?”

“Oh, child.” Dori sighed. He had not realized how serious Nori's feelings were toward the privateer. They got along, and Dwalin was clearly besotted, but he'd not realized Nori reciprocated those feelings. He had not realized how dangerous a game Nori was playing – befriending him as a pirate as well.

It was reckless – but what more could be expected of Nori? His sister's child had always been a wild little thing.

Nori insisted fiercely that the more badly injured of the crew be seen to first – so it was dawn before Oin undid the makeshift bandages to tend to Nori's wound.

Oin was truly a professional. He had, over his long career, developed a fine skill of selective blindness and deafness. He made no comment on the fact that he was tending to 'Miss Norine' in a man's clothes, who swore like a sailor, tending a gunshot wound that had torn through sun-speckled skin decorated with exotic tattoo work – and all this after tending a shipfull of pirates. He _must_ put two and two together, but he knew when to keep his silence.

Nori's crew had cleaned the wound with the strongest alcohol they had and bandaged it tight, which Oin seemed to suggest had staved off serious infection. Dori was just glad Nori was sedated with laudanum as the doctor cleaned and stitched the ragged wound.

“She is young and healthy.” Oin told Dori quietly afterward, while Jenny was helping Nori get into night clothes and into bed, “She is lucky the bullet hit only muscle and fat, no organs were damaged. With luck and care, she will pull through.”

Dori and Jenny listened carefully to the instructions of how to care for Nori – cleanliness and nourishing foods were key, along with rest – and the good doctor was paid and sent along.

He had more than earned his pay that night.

Nori was sleeping off the dose of opium when Dori came in to check one last time. Dori gently brushed his sister's blazing titian hair away from Nori's forehead to place a light kiss there.

He knew better than to even _hope_ that this would tame their pirate.

.

Dwalin threw himself into supervising the Cú Faoil's repairs when they finally limped their way back into Port Gorey on Sarnay.

He did not know if Lady Norine were on the island visiting her Uncle Dori, and he did not try to find out.

Dwalin _missed_ her, ached to see her – walk by her side, hear her laugh, feel her pretty lace-gloved hand tuck itself into his elbow as she smiled up at him. He wanted to sit at her feet, to feel the comfort of her touch if she chose to bestow that upon him.

He wanted what he did not deserve.

Dwalin still had Vulpes' pistol and strange curved knife. He could remember _so clearly_ looking into the face of the man who was saving the life of him and his crew. As conflicted as he was over the pirate, as _wrong_ as it was, Dwalin knew what he had felt. How could he face his Lady after that?

And then...

“There was so much blood, Balin.” Dwalin said, gently cradling Vulpes' knife between his big hands, “He was so small and there was so much blood... his crew carried him off before I could reach him. I don't know if he lived. He saved my life. All our lives.”

Balin had of course read Harris' official version of events, but he'd wanted it in Dwalin's own words too. His face was softly sympathetic.

Good old Balin. If he thought Dwalin's descriptions of the pirate were too much – if he remembered certain of Dwalin's predilections and guessed more than Dwalin said – he said nothing of it.

“You were very lucky, brother.” Balin said simply, and left Dwalin to his brooding.

The pistol stayed on the mantlepiece in Dwalin's room – carefully cared for – shined and polished for when he returned it to the pirate. He had to believe he would have the chance to return it to the pirate - he could not, yet, bear the think otherwise. Vulpes' knife he kept tucked into his belt.

Dwalin did not try to find out if Lady Norine were on Sarnay, instead keeping himself busy getting under the feet of the craftsmen repairing the Cú Faoil and frustrating his suppliers to no end bothering them about what they needed for their next voyage.

If Balin thought anything of this avoidance, he said nothing. Dwalin did not mention his sweet perfect Lady, and neither did Balin until he did so very casually over dinner one evening.

“The surgeon was called up to the Lysa estate again...” he said.

“Again?” Dwalin asked, confused.

“You did not know?” Balin asked mildly, “Miss Norine, she has always been delicate – coming to the island for her health, you know. This is the third time they have called Oin for her...”

His Lady... his Lady was ill and he had not known. He had not  _been there_ offering her whatever service he could.

Dwalin put his knife and fork down carefully. That was something he had learned – to always be careful not to bend the sliver, because he _would_ damage the silver if he left it in his big hands.

“How bad is it.” He asked, voice coming out too gruff. Luckily Balin knew his moods, and only smiled.

“Oh, the rumors are wild, but I saw Dorian Lysa today and he told me she is expected to make a full recovery. He wondered if you would be calling on them, but I explained how busy you are with your ship repairs...” Balin continued talking, but Dwalin did not hear him.

Lady Norine would recover, and his fists unclenched from the nervous knots they'd balled themselves into. She would recover, but it still pricked at Dwalin's heart.

She might _not_ have. Lady Norine might have died, and he would not have seen her again out of his own shame and guilt.

 _Not her too_.

“I will take her flowers tomorrow.” Dwalin promised, picking his fork and knife back up, and Balin smiled to himself as they continued their meal.

.

Nori was propped up on pillows, trying not to move and listening to Ori read. He had brought home some books from university, and was reading a philosophical treatise in Latin. It was interesting, and Ori's Latin was perfect. Always a clever boy.

Jenny was sitting at the window where the light was good, sewing, waiting for anything Nori might need.

Everything was very comfortable and companionable. Nori might have drifted into another nap, but Smith came to the door of the room. The butler was utterly polished and professional, but if you knew him well enough you could tell when he was pleased.

And he was _very_ pleased.

“Miss Norine.” He said, “Captain Tavish is at the door, humbly begging permission to call on you.”

“Oh!” Nori said, trying to sit up and collapsing back against the pillows with a wince.

“He carried these, for you.” Smith continued, producing a small but elegantly arranged bouquet of globe amaranth and sunflowers. Nori tried desperately to remember _what_ those two meant. Sunflowers were adoration, were they not?

“Unchanging adoration.” Smith translated, and Nori could almost swear he was _smug_ , “I took the liberty of placing them in a vase of water. What shall I tell the good Captain?”

Unchanging adoration. Nori _was_ still a bit peeved at Dwalin for cheating, of course, but none of the family knew of it. It was not the sort of thing to share. The family only knew the romantic bits – keeping an eye on the crippled Cú Faoil and coming to its crew's rescue. If Dwalin had brought flowers declaring undying loyalty, Nori would have been tempted to throw both them and him out as a liar.

Adoration, though... Nori could feel her cheeks warming as she reached for the bouquet. Dwalin had given his adoration freely to Lady Norine from the beginning.

“Thank you.” Nori said, and Ori was giggling as he gathered up his books – Jenny smiling as she folded up her sewing – predicting her acceptance of Dwalin's visit.

“Oh shush, you.” Nori chided Ori, “And of _course_ I will see Dwalin, Smith. Jenny, help?”

“We'll have you decent in a trice, milady.” Jenny promised, as Nori placed the flowers on her bedside table.

“I don't want to be _decent!_ ” Nori protested the instant the men were out of the room, tugging the neckline of her nightgown lower to show off the top curves of her breasts. “And we have to hide my hair, it will give me away!”

“ _Milady_!” Jenny protested, cheeks going pink. She shoved her sewing into a drawer and grabbed a sleeping cap and the face powder. “We haven't got time to powder your hair.” She said, all business as she twisted Nori's hair up and tucked it away into the cap, making sure to hide every last strand.

“Now... just a _touch_ of face powder and we'll draw the curtains for dim light. Will that be enough, do you suppose?” Jenny asked.

“No rouge or eye pencil?” Nori asked, eyes closed to keep the powder out of them.

“No rouge.” Jenny decided, tipping Nori's chin up to powder her neck and upper chest. “You will be porcelain – the delicate lady convalescent. Men like that.” and Nori had to bow to her expertise. Nori's main experience, after all, was going after other men as a man – which was different.

Jenny dusted off the excess powder and Nori could open up her eyes again as her lady's maid put the delicately scented powder away and drew the curtain.

“Ready?” She asked.

“I look good?” Nori asked, twitching at the hem of her nightgown over her breasts, “These look good?”

“Here.” Jenny plumped the cushions and settled Nori's shoulder's back against them, easing the hem of her nightgown down off one shoulder a little. She pondered slightly before tugging the nightgown down so it pooled in a valley between Nori's breasts, the thin fabric curving to the shape of them. The blanket that covered her was drawn up to just below them.

“There.” Jenny said, standing back to take her in and nodding, “Your breasts are perfect.”

“ _Jenny_.” Nori gasped, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Oh hush you wild thing.” Jenny blushed. “Now, shall I let your Captain in to your boudoir to see his lady convalescent? It's _terribly_ inappropriate to leave you two alone, you know.”

“Yes, _this_ will be what ruins me.” Nori smiled, sharing the laugh with Jenny, “Shame I haven't got the energy to take advantage of him today. Let him in, please.”

.

Dwalin briefly caught sight of someone carrying a stack of books into the library – just a glimpse of messy hair and glasses before he was gone. He wondered if it had been the famed Ori, elusive genius boy away at university, but he did not have long to wonder before Lady Norine's maid came to let him know that she would see him now.

“How is she?” Dwalin asked.

“In better spirits for your visit, sir.” the girl answered with a slight bob of a curtsey, and sent him in.

His Lady was still and pale against the pillows, carved of marble in the dim light, soft curved perfection.

“My Lady.” He said, pausing awkwardly just in the door – which he did not fully close.

“My wolfhound.” she greeted gently, a soft smile in her voice and on her lips, “Will you sit?” She gestured to a chair that was already at her bedside with an ungloved hand.

She paused for a moment as eyes fell on her hand and she gently tucked both hands under the folded edge of her blanket, still smiling at him as he sat.

“You have been busy with ship repairs...” She prompted, her eyes silver-gray in the shaded room. Already she was trying to put him at ease, give him a topic he cared of to talk about, and it cut to his heart. Giving him an excuse to have not visited sooner. His Lady was so sweet and so perfect and she had been _ill_ and he had been _avoiding_ her.

“My Lady...” Dwalin managed through the lump in his throat, “How are you? I only just _heard_...”

“I am on the mend.” Lady Norine assured him, “I will be walking again soon. A short visit will not overtire me, and the days grow dull with nothing new to speak of. Tell me, your Cú Faoil was caught in a storm?”

“It was.” Dwalin said, and began the tale of it. His hand rested on the pommel of Vulpes' knife as he spoke, his heart twisting at the loyalty he could no longer deny was split when it should all have been _hers_. She was so beautiful against the cushions, the painfully vulnerable line of her throat, the softness of her breast – the kindness of her smile despite the pain lines around her eyes – and yet Dwalin could not help seeing Vulpes screaming into battle in a cloud of gun smoke.

Just as well it was not a long visit that day. Lady Norine visibly tired as they spoke, and soon the maid Jenny came to give her medicine and Dwalin saw himself out to let her rest.

His sweet perfect Lady, and the pirate he owed his life to – if Vulpes was even _alive_ – wrestled back and forth in his mind.

Dwalin walked back to Port Gorey, and he did not hurry, but he was no less conflicted when he arrived than when he'd left.


	19. healing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is a slow road to healing.
> 
> It seems like there are going to be two or three 'healing' chapters, when I at first thought there was only going to be one.  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for body dysphoria

“No.” Nori turned his face away from Jenny and the powder she'd brought over. “No, I _can't_.” He tore off the lacy sleep cap that contained his hair and flung it across the room, his hair spilling in a mess all around him.

“I'm not _her_ , I can't be _her_ , not today.” He was _trapped_ in here, in this pretty lady's room, all delicate and lace. In this _bed_ all coddled and wrapped up in cushions and comforters until he would _drown_ on it and he couldn't just escape out to the Bloody Gannet and his crew and the open ocean.

His crew were recuperating and the Gannet was damaged and he was injured. A lead ball had ripped its way through his body and Nori just wanted to curl up like a hedgehog and never move – all spikes around the pain. There was no more laudanum to soothe it – Doctor's orders – and everything was awful.

Nori curled his knees up to his chest – even though the motion hurt. His chest was all _wrong_ , all soft and spilling everywhere and he couldn't wear his vest to keep it flat.

He couldn't wear anything tighter than the nightgown, a decorative ribbon bow sewed to the front of it.

“I am not a _woman_.” Nori spat, feeling the heat of tears threatening to spill from his eyes. “I _kill_ men who think I am one!” There was nothing he could do to make things _right_ but he could fix the damn _ribbon_. He grabbed it and ripped it off in a single sharp motion. The nightgown tore open, which he had not intended.

Jenny, sweet pretty Jenny, made a broken sound – staring at all her pretty stitchwork ruined. Nori dropped the ribbon and torn scrap of nightgown on the floor, burying his face against his knees, hiding under his messy hair.

“Leave.” he ordered, voice thick and choked, “Leave me alone.”

Everything was _wrong_ and he ruined _everything_ and nobody should have to see.

.

Dori loved Nori. He loved Nori just as much as he'd loved his dear departed sister.

That did not mean he always understood – or _ever_ understood, really. Nori was just... _Nori_. Being confined and injured – and above that having the laudanum taken away – meant that Nori was having a very difficult day. And Nori had never believed in keeping misery private.

Jenny fled, near tears with a torn scrap of ribbon in her hand. Dori chewed on a knuckle out in the hallway as he listened to his ward – sweet Nori, his sister's only child – sob as though the world was ending.

It was nearly enough to make him march out and find Oin – shake the good doctor until he'd give them more tincture of opium for Nori.

Ori, sweet boy, walked past with a tight bundle in his arms. He gave Dori an apologetic smile on his way past, squaring his jaw with a deep breath before he braved Nori's room.

“Nori.” His voice was gentle. Dori could see a brief sliver through the slightly open doorway as Ori sat on the edge of his cousin's bed.

“Go 'way.” Nori protested thickly.

“I will.” Ori promised, “But... I thought... would you feel better wearing these instead?”

It was one of Ori's own sleep shirts he was offering, and big soft sleep trousers with a draw string. Nori reached out to grab them, clutching them tight to blanket-covered knees.

“Should I get Jenny to help you change...” Ori offered.

“No.” Nori sniffled, “I can do it. Thank you.”

“If you're sure.” Ori said, “And then... maybe... I have a copy of John Dryden's new Aeneid translation? I've heard it isn't bad. We could compare it to Virgil's original Latin? If you like?”

“No, but... could you get me Bifur? Please?” Nori asked hesitantly.

“I can do that.” Ori promised gently, leaning forward to press his forehead against Nori's for a moment before he hopped up to leave. He closed the door behind him and gave Dori a hesitant smile.

“Thank you.” Dori breathed. He would not have thought to offer men's clothes – though now Nori was cursing at the pain of trying to change into them alone. But at least the crying was over.

...or it was, until Ori came back with the mute quartermaster. Nori reached for the graying pirate with gray-gold eyes overflowing, sobbed against his chest.

Bifur did not seem to be phased in the slightest. He rearranged Nori's pillows and blankets and climbed right in to the bed. Nori lay against his chest, clinging tight and talking in Portuguese and what must be Malay. Dori caught a few words of the Portuguese, but not enough to piece together what Nori was on about. Something about men?

Bifur gently combed Nori's hair, pausing now and then to gesture something with his hands in answer or to kiss the top of Nori's head.

The quartermaster seemed very comfortable when Nori was eventually cried out and fell asleep against his chest. It could not be the first time Nori had ever done that.

Dori dared creep into the room, to sit at the end of the bed and watch Bifur's fingers soothingly stroking through Nori's long red hair.

“Do you understand English?” Dori asked, very quietly to avoid waking Nori. Bifur nodded once, smiling slightly.

“Thank you for... for taking care of _him_.” Dori tried, nodding to Nori, “I don't really know what to do with him. _Her_ , I can take care of, but _him_...”

Bifur shrugged, gently wrapping both arms around Nori and pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head.

“Love him?” Dori tried, and Bifur nodded. “I _do_.” Dori sighed, “I really do.” and Bifur smiled at him.

“Nori loves you too.” Dori smiled back, remembering so long ago when he'd worried about their relationship. “Like a father.”

A kinder and gentler father than _Dori_ had ever had. Bifur made a 'you too' gesture, and Dori nodded.

“I try.” He said, and left them to their rest.

.

The next time Dwalin tried to come back to visit Lady Norine, the butler turned him away at the door.

“Miss Lysa is indisposed and will not be taking visitors today.” He said curtly.

“Has she taken worse...” Fear froze Dwalin's heart in his throat, and the butler took mercy on him – softening slightly.

“She is well enough the doctor will not prescribe more laudanum. It has been a trying day,” He confided, “but she _is_ on the mend, sir.”

Dwalin breathed deep, nodding, nearly shaking with the sudden relief.

“How long will it be before she can have visitors?” he asked.

“I could not say, sir.” The butler was all business again, “I will of course tell Miss Lysa you called. Perhaps she will send you a note when she is well enough to take callers?”

Only a butler could make a man feel that small, telling him something. Of course Lady Norine would tell him when she wanted him to visit. If she wanted him to visit.

“Yes. Of course.” Dwalin said, “Thank you.”

He left before he could be talked down to more... and maybe there was a small part of him that was _glad_ he did not have to face her or himself yet.


	20. confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Visits and confessions and _almost_ confessions.

When Lady Norine sent a note – that Dwalin took the time and effort to read _himself_ – inviting him to call, he went to her that very evening.

The butler saw Dwalin into the drawing room, and he paused to take the scene. Lady Norine was lying on a chaise longue, surrounded by cushions. She was powdered pale, with her hair up in simple powdered curls. She looked comfortable – _softer_ , somehow. She was not wearing shoes, her stockinged feet peeking out from beneath her skirts.

Lady Norine was laughing, smiling at a boy who was sitting beside her knees. He had the soft physique and pale skin of a scholar, messy light red-brown hair, glasses on his nose.

“And he _said it_ , right to the professor's face!” the boy, who must be Ori, giggled, “I thought I was going to die of laughter. He was in so much trouble and he was _so angry_. Of course he couldn't _say_ he'd been copying off my translations...”

Lady Norine had one lace gloved hand on his knee and was laughing, even though she had her other hand pressed to her stomach as though it pained her. Her bright eyes were smiling up at her cousin, and Dwalin's heart flared with the heat of jealousy.

For just an instant, just one tiny moment before he remembered biting kisses in the dark and clever tongue and hands and screaming in the gunsmoke of battle and Vulpes' knife on his belt.

Sweet Norine had every right to laugh with her cousin. Dwalin had no right to be jealous. _She_ was not the one who was unfaithful.

Dwalin had no right to judge _anyone_.

Lady Norine looked up past Ori, and her entire face lifted as she saw him – like a knife into his heart.

“Dwalin.” She greeted, the tempered mellowness of her voice caressing his name.

“Lady Norine.” he answered, bowing slightly.

“Meet my cousin, Ori. Ori, Dwalin.” The boy stood as Lady Norine introduced him... and he was not really a _boy_. He was soft-faced, but he _was_ an adult.

“Captain Tavish.” Ori greeted, offering his hand to shake, “Nori's told me all about you!” He was small, his hands uncalloused from work, but there _was_ strength in his grip at least.

“And I, you.” Dwalin answered. He had heard all about the family's bright scholar, away at university. Both Dorian and Lady Norine were very proud of him.

“Only good things I hope?” Ori smiled.

“I know nothing else of either of you.” Lady Norine promised, and it twisted in Dwalin's heart again. She did not _know_.

“Ori, get me the copy of Cervantes' _Persiles_ , would you? The translation.” Norine asked, gesturing for a book, “and then you can _go_.” She ordered, smile softening her words.

“He's been _very_ mean to me, making me laugh.” Lady Norine explained aside to Dwalin.

“Better than playing cards with you!” Ori protested, handing Lady Norine the requested book, “Nori never loses and won't teach me how to cheat.”

“A lady never tells.” Lady Norine said primly, and Ori laughed as he saw himself out. It was just the two of them – Norine reclining on the chaise longue and Dwalin standing awkwardly at the door.

“Will you sit?” she invited gently, “There are chairs, or here.” she placed her hand in the space Ori had vacated at her knee, “Or a cushion?” she gestured to the floor beside her.

Offering him his choice – and there _was_ nothing he would like better than to sit at her feet and listen to her read. Dwalin quickly got a cushion to sit on, before he could change his mind.

“I thought I might read you some of _Persiles_ , a classic. I'm afraid I'm not up for walking in the garden with you yet...” Lady Norine wiggled her stockinged toes at him, bright reflecting eyes smiling at him. She clearly _was_ doing better than she had been the first time he visited.

Dwalin greatly dared to reach out and give her toes an affectionate squeeze before he sat on the floor beside her.

“Thank you, my Lady.” he said. He did not _deserve_ to sit beside her, to have her smile or the gentle touch of her lace-gloved hand against the side of his face.

Not when he was so torn, with her ribbons in his pocketwatch locket and Vulpes' knife on his belt. She deserved _perfect_ loyalty and fidelity – no matter what Balin might say about men's needs and how long Dwalin was away. Dwalin had been without for longer before, and he was never _supposed_ to want men... but Vulpes...

Vulpes saved his life and those of his crew and now he might not even be alive himself. There had been _so much_ blood. He was a pirate, he could not use an honest port like a privateer. Even if he had not bled out on the spot, could he have _found_ a doctor to tend to him and his crew? He could very well have died for Dwalin – and what had Dwalin ever done for him? Cursed his name and taken his pleasure and given nothing back.

Dwalin sat at Lady Norine's feet, leaning against her chair, her fingers affectionately combing through his hair as she read. Her beloved voice flowed around him, but he could not focus on the words. His Lady had never been anything but perfect – sweet and patient and attentive. He had promised to be hers, he _wanted_ to be hers. He wanted to do nothing but worship at her feet forever, and yet...

Blood would tell, wouldn't it? Everyone knew Dwalin was a bastard, looked nothing like his mother's husband, and here he was. Unfaithful to his Lady.

“Dwalin?” her voice was gentle as she set the book aside, brushing away the single tear that had escaped his eye. “What's wrong? Tell me?” she asked.

He could not bear the soft sympathy on her face, looked down at his big hands clenched on his knees instead.

“Lady Norine, I am... I am not what you _deserve_.” He confessed, “You are everything that is perfect in a Lady and I am not good enough for you. You deserve so much better than me. You deserve a man who desires nothing but _you_ , thinks of no one but _you_. You deserve to be treasured above life itself. You deserve _complete_ loyalty and fidelity, and I am not. I have...”

Dwalin shook his head. He could not _say_ what he had done, could not confess to such a crime above the infidelity. He could not bring dishonor on his family that way – on Balin who had always called him 'brother' despite any and all evidence. Without Vulpes he'd have been hanged as a pirate. With Vulpes he'd be hanged for something far more shameful.

“Dwalin...” Lady Norine's voice was not _angry_ , was maybe just a little sad. Her hand was still gentle on the side of his face. She was so _good_ , when he was not. He did not deserve her kindness.

“I am not the Lady you think I am. I have _never_ been much of a Lady.” She said, low and quiet, “You should know that I... I am...” She hesitated, and Dwalin caught her pretty lace-gloved hand tight in his own.

Rumors, Balin had said. A falling out with her father and a possible elopement.

What did any of that _matter_? She had seen the world and lived in it. Life may have touched her, but it left her pure and perfect still.

“No, my Lady.” Dwalin interrupted her, looking up into her worried face, “You are perfect. You are always everything a Lady is meant to be. I will never believe you are anything else – and you deserve better.” He pressed his lips to the back of her rose-scented hand before he released it, a touch of the worship she deserved.

Lady Norine looked at him for a long moment, her brows drawn together and her lips thin. Finally she reached out to press a fingertip to his cheek, forcing his eyes to meet hers – anchoring into his very soul so he could not look away.

“Are you my wolfhound?” She asked.

“For as long as you want me.” the words pulled directly out of the ache in the center of his chest as he looked up at her.

“Then you _are_ my wolfhound.” Lady Norine said, firm enough that he could not disbelieve her, “And I am your Lady, no matter what else we both are.”

“Yes, my Lady.” he answered, absolved beneath the faint smile that touched her lips, the gentle brush of her knuckles across his cheek. It was too much, and he looked back down at his knees – torn still and forgiven when he did not deserve it.

“Now, my wolfhound, you will get me a drink of water from that pitcher.” his Lady gestured, “And then you will get yourself another cushion because I want you comfortable, and you will lay your head on my lap to be pet while I read _Persiles_ to you.”

Dwalin could feel the heat rushing to his face at the familiarity she was allowing him, but he stood quickly to obey.

She sipped gently at her water while he got himself a second cushion. After a brief hesitation, Dwalin sat himself facing the same direction Lady Norine was – so he was looking toward her toes. He was glad that she could not see his face as the thought of facing toward her and Vulpes' vulgar suggestion made his face flush hotter.

Lady Norine ran her fingertips gently across the breadth of his shoulders before stroking the rough hair on his head. He obeyed the light pressure that urged him closer, until he leaned against the chaise longue with his cheek resting on the warm firm muscle of her thigh.

“Good boy.” she praised gently, warmth all through him at the words as she slipped off her glove to run her short nails across his scalp.

There was a brief rustling of paper as she reopened the book, a fond smile in her voice as she read.

“ _Near the mouth of a deep and narrow dungeon, which was more like a tomb than a prison to its wretched inmates, stood Corsicubo the barbarian..._ ”

There was no place in the world Dwalin would rather be, no one in the world he would rather be with – even as his hand came to rest on the handle of the knife of the man who'd saved him.

 

The next time Dwalin was invited to the Lysa estate, it was to spend an afternoon at quiet entertainment with the family – including both afternoon tea and supper.

Of course he would not miss an opportunity to visit his Lady. He walked faster than he intended to and arrived a little early.

The butler merely showed Dwalin into the library to wait – where Ori was reading something. He smiled when he saw Dwalin.

“Nori should be done dressing soon – in the mean time, any book you want...” He gestured welcomingly to all the books, “Oh, have you seen the family atlas? We're very proud of it!”

Dwalin found himself pushed into a comfortable chair with the book in question – at least it was an atlas and not literature. It should not require too much reading to understand.

It seemed a standard atlas until he opened it. There had been pages carefully inserted – beautiful hand-drawn maps in an impeccable hand. Dwalin paged through it, lips moving as he sounded out the names of the places that had been drawn. There were coastlines and islands from all over the world – and then the Caribbean, where Dwalin was familiar. He recognized islands, the lines of prevailing currents and winds.

They were fantastic maps, they must have cost a _fortune_. Each was initialed in the corner in elegant looping calligraphy.

Dwalin lost himself in the shapes of islands and continents, admiring the artistry, until Lady Norine arrived. She was walking, in an apricot and gray dress and her pretty tall-heeled boots, her hair powdered up gray to match. She moved slowly and carefully – like someone who knew that the tiniest misstep would hurt – but she did it with _grace_.

“Our titian beauty has arrived!” Ori greeted her, grinning, but she waved him off as Dwalin stood.

“Lady Norine.” Dwalin bowed over her hand and she gave his fingers a squeeze. A tiny affection with her gray-gold eyes smiling at him. He walked with her the few steps to the chair she wanted.

“You look... different.” Dwalin said, gesturing toward her body, suddenly sure as the words were out of his mouth that it was a thing impolite to mention to a Lady. Norine still looked _soft_ , the way she had when he visited before.

“Oh.” She pressed a hand gently to her belly, “No stays for me until I am a little better... I must look a bit slovenly...”

“You look lovely, my Lady.” Dwalin was quick to assure her, hating the note of insecurity that had crept into her voice, “It suits you.”

Lady Norine leaned heavily on Dwalin's arm as she lowered herself to her chair.

“Why do you call Nori 'lady'?” Ori asked, “Nori isn't married to a Lord or even anyone's heir.”

“Because... she is _my Lady_.” Dwalin answered, unsure what else he could say, how he could explain. It was well enough for Balin to laugh as he set himself as the knight errant to his fair Lady, but Dwalin would rather not be laughed at by Ori.

“Enough, Ori.” Norine said, small smile warming her lips as she looked up at Dwalin, “What were you looking at?”

“The atlas.” Dwalin answered, “It's beautiful.”

“I offered him the run of the books.” Ori broke in, “But he liked your atlas.”

“Oh, Ori... the good Captain does not _read_.” Lady Norine corrected gently, and Dwalin was almost certain he had imagined the warning look she'd flicked toward her cousin.

“Only a little... and slowly.” Dwalin added awkwardly. Uncomfortable to confess it between two people who read so very much.

“Oh.” Ori said, and then the little scholar shrugged, “Well, it shouldn't be a problem. Nori reads _everything_... except Chinese.”

“That's a lie and you know it.” Lady Norine dismissed, “I don't read Arabic either, but you can't deny the script is _lovely_.”

The conversation was steered away to other topics then, and Dwalin did not think back to the atlas again.

Tea was taken out in the garden. Dwalin walked Lady Norine there with her little hand wrapped tight around his elbow. She had doctor's orders to walk as much as she could, but it ached in Dwalin's heart to see her hurt. His Lady should _never_ be in pain.

There were little pate sandwiches on dark bread and deviled quail eggs, rich tea and crisp buttery biscuits.

Lady Norine was lovely in the dappled shade of the tree and her lace parasol, offering him a deviled egg. Her eyes reflected the bright blue of the sky and the deep green of the trees, widening just a little as he took the offering from her fingers with his lips, breath catching slightly.

The backs of her fingers brushed his cheek affectionately before she withdrew, and he turned his face into it on instinct.

“All this rich food...” Lady Norine mused, loud enough to bring Dorian and Ori – who had been politely ignoring them – into the conversation.

“They're trying to make me fat while I am captive here.” she stage whispered to Dwalin.

“It's doctor's orders.” Dorian protested, in good humor with the tea and biscuits. Dwalin accepted another savory little deviled egg from his Lady's fingers... and he could picture how she would look. She would be all soft curves and round face, jiggling when she laughed.

“You would be lovely.” Dwalin said, before he realized how that would sound. “Still lovely!” He corrected quickly, “ _Just_ as lovely.”

Lady Norine had her fingertips pressed to her lips, her eyes all crinkled up in a smile at him. “You will go to my head.” She accused, “I quite like it. Don't ever stop.”

“Never, my Lady.” He promised.

Part of the afternoon was spent playing a few card games, which Lady Norine invariably won, until Ori accused her of cheating and would not play any more. Dwalin thought that was poor sportsmanship, but Ori was otherwise very pleasant company.

Lady Norine had grown tired and retired to the chaise longue in the drawing room with some sewing to keep her entertained. She could talk and sew at the same time, so Ori told stories of the mischief he got up to at university and Dwalin told a few stories of his voyages.

He could not bear to tell the story of his latest yet – the way it had ended in blood and gunsmoke. He did not think he could hide his feelings well enough to be safe telling that story.

“What are you making?” Dwalin asked eventually, and Lady Norine smiled as she showed him a rose crafted from a strip of gray silk.

“Silk roses.” She said, bending back to her task with needle and thread, “They're just a pretty way to use up scraps and keep busy. My mother taught me how...”

“Your mother?” Dwalin had not heard of her yet, and Lady Norine's smile was sad on the edges as she nodded.

“My mother... oh, she was near as wild as I am.” her voice was fond on it, “She was free and beautiful and laughed at the whole world, and it gave her everything she wanted.”

“I was fourteen when she...” Lady Norine grew more quiet, a deepening sadness to her voice, “It was very sudden – it seemed to me that one day she laughed a little less, and the next she was _gone_.”

“I'm sorry, my Lady.” Dwalin said. He'd not meant to bring up a painful subject.

“Oh, I'm not.” Lady Norine threw him a smile, “It was long enough ago – and I got to have her for my mother for fourteen years. No one else did.”

“I would have liked to meet her.” Dwalin had moved closer, bringing a cushion to sit on at his Lady's side.

“She would have loved you.” His Lady answered, breaking from sewing for a moment to stroke his cheek.

He sat at his Lady's side as she sewed and quietly told stories of the mother she loved. There at her side it was impossible to imagine he'd ever want anything or anyone else.


	21. gunsmoke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is a carriage ride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning!  
> This fic is now tagged for Animal Injury and Animal Death.  
> Sorry.

The repairs to the Cú Faoil were nearly finished, and Lady Norine was well enough to go calling on the other gentry again. This meant that Dwalin was also invited here and there to various outings. She was still delicate, so she could not participate in more athletic events, but there was nothing to stop her from enjoying a carriage ride and picnic.

Dwalin attended to his Lady as much as he could so she did not need to strain herself, and it was a very enjoyable afternoon. She sat at his side in the carriage, her little shoulder leaning comfortably against his own and her hand wrapped around his arm.

Lady Norine joined in conversation with the other gentry, and Dwalin was happy to be with her.

It was an enjoyable outing and everyone was lighthearted and in good spirits on their way home until they came across the rabid dog. They should likely have driven on past and told the local constable or the gamekeeper of the nearest estate, but the young gentleman who had organized the carriage ride decided to take care of it himself.

There was a musket in the carriage, stowed beneath the driver's box for protection. Protection from _what_ on this peaceful island Dwalin did not know.

They all sat, tense in the carriage, while the gentleman dismounted to take care of the poor creature.

The crack of the gunshot was followed, not by silence, but by the agonized crying of the dog. He'd missed his shot, but not entirely. The ladies cringed, turning toward each other or their gentlemen companions, as their wont was. Lady Norine's jaw tensed and she released Dwalin's arm, giving him a small nudge toward the door.

Dwalin nodded to her briefly and exited the carriage to join the gentleman, who was reloading the musket with shaking hands.

“Let me.” Dwalin offered, “I can make the shot.” he was a privateer after all. His life often depended on making a shot under far more dangerous conditions. His hands would not shake.

“And you think I can't!?” The gentleman accused hotly, his voice high with nerves, “I'll have you know I've been hunting since I was a child!”

Dwalin steeled himself against the crying of the dog, clenched his teeth and resisted the urge to grab the musket out of the man's hand to shoot it himself. The last thing they needed was to have a fight with a loaded firearm.

The gentleman's second shot went further astray than his first, missing the poor animal entirely.

“Give me the musket.” Dwalin growled through his teeth, and the gentleman's hands clenched on it even harder, though they were still shaking. Every moment wasted increased the chance the dog would attack, and that damn stubborn...

“Move.” The order from behind them was impossible to disobey, and Dwalin _was_ moving, getting out of her way as Lady Norine swung out of the carriage to jump to the ground. She strode two steps forward as she turned sideways – pistol in her outstretched hand.

She fired without hesitation.

There was ringing silence following the report of her pistol, the poor dog mercifully killed. Lady Norine was calmly expressionless, marble-carved in her pale powdered perfection, a Goddess wreathed in gunsmoke as she efficiently reloaded her turn-off style pistol. It was a hard mercy she gave, but mercy it was and she dealt it without hesitation. Her smoke-gray eyes brooked no argument as she concealed pistol and simple unadorned powder horn in her voluminous skirts again – but that did not stop the young gentleman.

“I would have... I was going to...” He started, off his balance.

“Were you enjoying that poor creature's suffering?” Lady Norine asked simply, her voice carefully modulated to calm mellowness.

“N-no but I...” The gentleman started.

“Then do not complain I ended it.” She answered.

“But...” He started, and then visibly changed tack, “You brought a _pistol_ to a picnic!”

The look sweet Norine gave him was pitying. “I am _never_ unarmed.” She stated simply, “Now, shall we continue the carriage ride?”

“My Lady...” Dwalin breathed, his breath finally catching up to him so he _could_ speak. She looked up at him, bright-gleaming eyes wide and a crease between her brows as though she worried of his judgment. As though she were not an angel on the earth, queen among women, utterly without compare.

Dwalin took both her little hands in his own as he sank to one knee. Her pretty lace gloves were all ruined with gunpowder and smoke and he brought them forward to kiss her fingertips.

“Marry me.” He begged, looking up into her face, “Make me your husband.” She was everything, _everything_ desirable in the world.

“Dwalin...” Lady Norine seemed too surprised to give more answer, to speak.

“I will have no lesser woman.” he swore, “I am only a privateer, and I am often at sea, but I love you. I am yours. I am your dog, your wolfhound, let me be your husband also.” Dwalin did not know where his words came from, but they were done. He had no more to beg, kneeling at the feet of his Lady where he belonged.

Lady Norine swallowed hard, but her eyes gentled as she reached forward to smooth the stray hairs out of his face. Dwalin pressed his face against her hand, breathed the mixed scent of gunsmoke and rose water. There was nothing more in the world he wanted. How could he have ever thought otherwise?

“We must have a long engagement.” She said, quiet, a sadness in her eyes, “There is too much you do not know of me yet – but yes. I accept your suit Captain Tavish.”

Yes.

“Oh my Lady.” Dwalin breathed, catching both her hands to kiss them again. If a heart could break for joy, his might. He was hers – his Lady, his sweet perfect Norine, his _betrothed_.

He obeyed when she nudged his hands upward, urging him to stand. It was only when he released her hands to dust the dirt and leaves from his trousers that he noticed she was in pain. She pressed her hand tight to her right side, stained white gloves against a beautiful gray silk bodice that gleamed nearly violet in the sun. Her lips pressed together thin and the corners of her were eyes tight as she breathed shallowly.

Dwalin made a wordless sound of concern, half reaching toward her and afraid to touch. If she had taken worse because of _him_...

“I'm fine.” She said quickly, “I overextended myself slightly. If you would help me back into the carriage?”

Dwalin gently helped Lady Norine back up into carriage she had jumped out of so athletically, all but carrying her as he settled her back in her place.

There were squeals of 'Nori!' and excited congratulations the moment she was in, and Dwalin held back for a moment. The gentleman who's poor shot had started the whole thing was gaping at him as he stowed the musket away.

“You're going to marry her?” he asked.

“She is _perfect_.” Dwalin answered, and he could feel a smile on his face that likely bordered on silly. She had accepted him. She wanted him, a scarred old sailor. She would marry him.

He climbed into his place in the carriage, to sit beside Lady Norine – pressed shoulder to shoulder and thigh to thigh, her hand wrapped possessively around his arm.

And he was hers.


	22. Blush Rose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dwalin prepares to sail again, and the brother feels kind of take over.  
> I thought this was going to be a short chapter.

It was late at night, only a few hours before the Cú Faoil was to begin preparations to sail. Dwalin sat in Balin's office with a pink rose and the flower dictionary, and he did not know what to make of it.

Things had been going well for him, with his perfect Lady. Dori's approval of the match had been reserved, but had waved it off when Dwalin tried to apologize for not trying to gain his consent first. It had simply not occurred to him at the time.

“There is only one person who knows Nori's mind, and that's Nori.” Dori had answered, a touch exasperated, “I would not put it past that child to reject you for thinking my opinion had any bearing on the matter.”

Maybe he could see Dwalin's discomfort, because the silver-haired gentleman had softened, “Nori would not have had you any other way.” He said, with a small smile, “I can only hope that you make each other happy.”

Dwalin had promised to do his best for Lady Norine. She deserved all the best in life, and he would do all he could for her.

Ori had been more enthusiastic in his congratulations of them both, with no reservations about the match at all. It seemed as though the servants approved of Dwalin formalizing his devotion to Norine, too.

Balin had teased Dwalin that it had taken him long enough to work up his courage, asking him about honeymoon plans with a suggestively quirked eyebrow to make Dwalin turn bright red. Later, when he was not so much making fun, Balin had quietly brought up the possibility of Dwalin retiring from the sea and purchasing a small estate to support her in the way she was accustomed. It seemed he had enough money for it, but Dwalin shrunk from the possibility. He'd been sent to sea because he wasn't good for much else, but he loved it now. It could be dangerous, but Dwalin did not know what to do with himself without a ship beneath his boots or a crew around him. Dwalin  _needed_ the sea, and Lady Norine understood. His elder brother had pushed for a quick marriage, but Dwalin had promised his Lady a long engagement and would not be budged. She would say when she was ready, and Dwalin would wait for her.

Both families had joined for a celebratory dinner. Balin already got along with Dorian Lysa, but he had struck up a quick friendship with Ori as well. The two of them had fallen happily into a discussion of numbers that immediately wandered beyond Dwalin's limited understanding.

Lady Norine had seemed  _happy_  to be engaged to him. Her convalescence had gone well, and she had seemed happy to go on walks with him – though the cliff sides near the cove were unstable and could not be walked on again. She called him 'my wolfhound' and her bright eyes smiled at him. She read to him and let him sit at her feet with his head on her lap.

She had seemed as happy with their engagement as he was.

Dwalin had gotten her a locket. He had gone all the way to London for it, braving the confusion and the bustle of the city to find just the right jeweler. It had to be perfect, to suit his perfect Lady. He had settled on little locket in clear yellow gold, with diving birds on the ends of the delicate chains holding it. It was set with deep green emeralds, and he had it engraved with Latin on the inside. Meum Cor Tenes, 'you have my heart', or so Dwalin was told. He had never taken to Latin, but he knew Lady Norine read it as easily as she read anything else.

He had given it to her just today... or  _yesterday_  , by the clock. They had been walking in the garden and he had offered it to her. She had been so  _happy_  with it, her eyes shining with green and gold to match it as she purred over it. When he carefully fastened the catch behind her neck, the locket had fallen to nestle between the soft orbs of her breasts as though it existed for nothing but to display them.

Dwalin had felt the heat in his cheeks as she patted it in place, promising that it would never leave her.

Lady Norine had kissed him then, stretching up against him to reach. His big hands found her little waist, confined in its stays, all on their own. He had turned his face to give her his cheek to kiss, and she had laughed softly as she did. He could not take a kiss from her lips, rouged as red as cherries, his sweet untouchable Lady. It would not seem right at all.

She had seemed happy with him, had leaned against him with her arm wrapped tight around his as they walked, but then she had given him this rose. The last thing before he was to leave.

“Until I see you again, my Lady.” he had bowed, kissing her hands. “I will think of you, though I will be far away.”

“I will be near you.” Lady Norine promised, fingertips resting on the locket at her breast, and handed him the rose to see him off.

It was a beautiful pale pink rose, fragrant and full-blossomed. But it was  _pink_.

The flower dictionary said a pink rose was for friendship, and Dwalin did not understand. Was this his Lady's way of telling him that she did not actually wish to be engaged to him? That what she felt was not the same as what he felt?

She had seemed  _happy_ , and he would never think she would tell him 'yes' and lead him on if it were not something she felt. Lady Norine never had trouble speaking her mind.

So why a pink rose?

Dwalin looked back to the flower dictionary. The flower was most certainly a rose, and certainly pink, so the only uncertainty must be with his reading.

But the words were the same no matter how many times Dwalin puzzled them out. Rose, Pink, for friendship.

“Brother?” Balin's white hair was in disarray, in his sleep shirt and a dressing robe, candle in his hand, “Are you not going to bed?”

“She gave me a rose.” Dwalin said, holding book and flower out to Balin. Balin would make it right. “It's  _pink_. Pink for friendship? But I thought... we are  _engaged_...” he could hear the hurt confusion in his own voice.

“That  _is_  a pink rose.” Balin said, immediately stepping over to help, “But not just  _any_  pink rose. This particular kind is a maiden's blush rose.” He turned a few pages and handed the book back to Dwalin.

“If you love me, you will find it out.” Balin waited patiently while Dwalin puzzled the words and the meanings out, and looked back up at him in confusion.

“Your Miss Norine has a secret.” Balin said gently. “What did she give as her reason to ask for a long engagement?”

“That I did not know her well enough...” Dwalin answered, “But how am I to learn it at sea? Even if I weren't going away, I would not go searching for  _gossip_  about her.” The very idea was sickening. She was his  _Lady_ , he would not hear any foul thing about her. Gossip was just cruel rumor. If she had anything he needed to know she would say it herself, wouldn't she? Surely she could trust that he would tell no one? That he would listen to her?

Dwalin was suddenly back at Lady Norine's side, confessing his infidelity... and when she tried to tell him something he stopped her, hadn't he? He had told her that she was perfect, when she tried to say that she was not a Lady.

She  _was_  perfect. She was everything a Lady was supposed to be, and so much more.

“...possibility that she is not a maiden.” Balin was still speaking, his tone gentle, “You must entertain the possibility that she may have eloped to be married abroad, or have taken up with a man unwed. It could even be that she has a  _child_  in secret somewhere. These things do happen among the gentry, indiscretions quieted up...”

“Why would I  _care_!?” Dwalin bellowed, louder than he intended, and took a conscious effort to quiet himself as he continued. “I do not care, other than I want to kill anyone who ever treated her as less than an angel.” His sweet, pure Norine. It  _burned_  to think of her dishonored, disgraced.

“Why would  _I_  care?” he finished. Balin's eyebrows, risen high with his outburst, rose higher.

“Why would you  _not_  care?” Balin asked, and Dwalin slumped to look at his big hands, rose and book still in them.

“Everyone  _knows_  I'm a bastard.” he answered, putting the book aside to hold just the rose. If you love me, you will find it out. All it took was a pair of eyes to find out about Dwalin – big ox of a laborer's bastard only good to be sent off to sea. At least his second secret, that he wanted men, was only  _known_  to Vulpes even if Balin guessed it – if the pirate were even alive still to know it.

“Brother, no.” Balin's hand was gentle on Dwalin's back as he sat beside him, “Who  _said_  that to you?”

Dwalin gave Balin a look, “ _Anyone_  can see it.” He said dryly, “I look nothing like our father.” Did Balin think he was a child in need of coddling, still?

“Schoolboys can be cruel.” Balin said, after a long pause, “And widows jealous at not having been the one chosen when our father remarried. That does not make what they say  _true_.”

“Doesn't make it a lie.” Dwalin contended, but quieter. He had heard it so many times, he'd not thought to question the motives of those who said it.

“You were so young...” Balin sighed, “You don't remember your mother much, do you?”

Dwalin shook his head. He was lucky, in a way, that he'd never had to miss her the way those who lost their mothers later in life did. Like Lady Norine and her mother.

“I do.” Balin said, “and I wish you could remember how she was with our father.” there was a smile in his voice, “She made him  _young_  again.”

“You liked her?” Dwalin asked, not really a question. They rarely spoke of her, but he did know that Balin always spoke of Dwalin's mother fondly.

“I did.” He answered firmly, “She was a good woman. A good  _person_. She brought joy into our lives, and she gave us you. A brother for my very own – and for that I would love you and her the same even if I  _did_  think you were a bastard.” Balin's blue eyes – so different from Dwalin's own brown – were looking up at him with hope. Urging him to believe.

“You don't think I am?” Dwalin asked.

“Blood of my blood.” Balin said seriously, “He was stooped and shrunken by the time you were old enough to know him, but our father was tall in his youth, did you know? You do have your mother's eyes, but this hair...” Balin touched the wiry strands that escaped everywhere no matter what Dwalin tried, a laugh in his voice, “This hair could  _only_  come from our father.”

Dwalin breathed deep, an iron band around his heart loosening slightly. He bumped his shoulder against Balin's, smiling. His brother smiled back.

“Even so...” Dwalin said, gesturing slightly with the rose that had been momentarily forgotten. “I would not judge Lady Norine if she had been deceived or mistreated. She is perfect.”

“No one is.” Balin disagreed gently, “...too much heart, you, that was always your problem. Too much heart for the Navy. I  _am_  glad they could not break it.”

“I prefer being a privateer.” Dwalin answered. He could choose his own targets, and treat his men as well as they deserved to be treated.

“It suits you.” Balin agreed, “But if you want to get  _any_  rest before you go back to being one, I suggest you go to bed?”

Dwalin laughed and gave his brother a one-armed hug as he took the lamp to do just that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to everyone on Tumblr who helped me figure out the Latin - especially asparklethatisblue and fanficisalegitimatefieldofstudy, who's suggestions I used.
> 
> Nori's locket took vague inspiration from this:  
> http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MabKxAfp4Tc/S-GTYi5hoCI/AAAAAAAAEsw/7FLsdC9i1DM/s400/il_430xN.137411537.jpg
> 
> Also there is a funny art by Sparkle:  
> http://asparklethatisblue.tumblr.com/post/92654573633/the-dangers-of-double-life-drew-this-quite-a


	23. horizon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nori gazes into the distance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for mentions of transphobic violence

Nori stood on the gently rocking deck of the Bloody Gannet and watched the empty horizon. They were far away from any land, letting the trade winds carry them back to the Caribbean, and there was nothing to see. The ship had needed some repairs, but not nearly as much as Dwalin’s Cú Faoil had. The main thing they had needed were new sails, and they were lucky in that junk sails did not need nearly as sturdy material as standard ones. The Bloody Gannet was resilient. It was mostly Nori’s own slow recovery – along with the other injured crew members – that had pushed their departure so far behind Dwalin’s.

There was nothing to see out in the middle of the open ocean, but still Nori stood on the deck and watched the western horizon. He could feel the weight of the little gold and emerald locket on his breast, hidden beneath his clothes, and chewed on his bottom lip.

Accepting Dwalin’s courtship had been a risky move. The closer they were when Nori’s double lives were discovered, the more dangerous it would be. He would feel lied to, deceived, though Nori had not really intended that. Nori _was_ who he was whenever they met.

It had been fun at first, Nori would admit. Dwalin had not recognized Norine as Vulpes or Vulpes as Norine, and that was funny, but Nori had never expected it would go on this long. It had gotten out of hand.

Nori had nearly _told_ Dwalin when he was agonizing over having cheated. It was not fair to him, when it _had_ been Nori all along – but Nori had been injured and nearly unarmed, vulnerable, unable to either run or defend if Dwalin took it poorly. Nori had hesitated, and Dwalin had looked up at her with his aching heart bare in his brown eyes and told her that he would never believe she was anything but a perfect Lady.

It had to stop. It _had_ to. As flattering as it was to be adored as a lady, it was becoming painfully obvious that Nori did not match the image Dwalin had.

Ori’s help had been recruited, but even his admittedly heavy-handed hints had not gotten through to Dwalin. Nothing had, not sewing roses, not even shooting. Nori _could_ have seen Dwalin without any powder on face or hair. He _must_ recognize Nori then… but it was dangerous to be recognized, and Nori was afraid. Better if Dwalin figured it out when Nori was a man, well armed and surrounded by his crew for protection.

Not that a physical attack would be the only way for Dwalin to hurt Nori. Revealing Nori’s double lives publicly could damage Uncle Dori’s reputation beyond repair. Nori would never be able to visit him again, never be able to be Norine. It would be better if Dwalin worked through his initial anger somewhere far from Sarnay.

Not that that kind of attack was Dwalin’s style. Balin’s maybe, but not Dwalin’s. Dwalin would be much more direct and physical.

Nori placed his hand over the deep-aching scar on his side. He’d nearly died saving Dwalin and his crew, because he loved that big privateer, and there was no guarantee Dwalin wouldn’t try to kill him when he finally figured it out. Nori did not want to believe it of gentle Dwalin, but he _was_ a privateer – he could and would use violence in his job – and men could respond in unpredictably violent ways when they felt they had been wronged. If they felt they had been made a fool of.

It had not been Nori’s intention, at all, but what was the chance that Dwalin would see that? Would he even be able to understand that Nori _was_ a man, most of the time. He _was_ who he said he was.

Just sometimes Nori was a woman, and ran home to Sarnay to wear pretty dresses and be coddled.

And courted.

That had not been the plan when Nori first came to Sarnay. Nori had not intended to be courted at all, but Dwalin’s attentions had been too endearing to turn away. When he proposed, Nori had not wanted to tell him no. He’d practically done the same thing bringing up the possibility of matelotage and leaving a red silk rose the second time he kissed Dwalin, hadn’t he? Dwalin loved Norine and wanted Vulpes, and that was a combination Nori was not used to.

Nori _wanted_ to be loved and wanted like that. Completely. Man _and_ woman. Dwalin had only proposed to Norine, though. He only wanted _her_.

Nori chewed on his lip and stared tensely out to the horizon. That was not true, though, was it? Dwalin had proposed to Norine, but he’d done it with Vulpes’ kukri knife on his belt. He harbored at least _some_ sentiment toward that part of Nori.

Would it be enough, when he finally did put it together?

Was it too much to hope that when he got over his anger at having been deceived, he would be _happy_ the man he desired and the woman he loved were the same person? That he _could_ have both?

No. That _was_ too much to hope for.

Would Dwalin even be able to see Nori as a man at all once he knew? That was the question, and it ached beneath Nori’s ribs. So few ever could. Men like Walker were more the rule than the exception.

Not even Uncle Dori understood, even though he loved Nori and he tried. When he’d been told of Nori and Dwalin’s engagement, his suggestion had been that Nori give up being a pirate and spend the rest of a lifetime as a woman. He’d suggested it, not only as though it were even an option, but as though it were the _only_ one. As thought he had spent all this time just waiting for Nori to settle down into the expected part of wife and mother. As if Nori had not run away to sea to escape that stifling fate. As if being a pirate were just a role Nori was playing that he could drop at any time. As if _this_ weren’t who he really was just as much if not _more_ than the lady ever was.

If Uncle Dori couldn’t understand, then what chance did Dwalin have of it?

Nori was so caught up in his thoughts he did not notice Bifur’s approach. He jumped when the quartermaster touched his arm to catch his attention.

“ _Hard thoughts?_ ” he signed, and Nori nodded.

“I love him.” He sighed, “and he’s going to kill me when he finds out.”

Bifur’s brow furrowed, but he did not contradict. He knew as well as Nori how dangerous the situation with Dwalin could become.

“I’m in too deep, Bifur.” Nori rubbed a hand across his face, trying to ease the frozen tension in his muscles, “I don’t know if I could… if he tried to hurt me, I don’t know that I could just shoot him the way I do.”

“ _You are a strong man_.” Bifur signed, and stroked down one of Nori’s shoulders to relax it down from where it had tensed up, “ _A brave man_.” he signed, doing the same to the other. “ _You will protect yourself, if you have to_.”

Nori nodded. He would, he _did_ value his own life and health, he just prayed he did not have to. It would kill him. It ached in his bones just to think of it.

“ _You are not alone_.” Bifur reminded, a gesture encompassing the whole crew, “ _All of us are with you. All of us will protect you_.”

Nori had to smile at that. He had gathered up the best crew from clear around the world, and he shouldn’t forget that. They were as loyal to him as he was to them. If they’d rise up ready to throw Dwalin’s crew off the boat for a threat to Mina, they’d rise up to be sure Dwalin did not hurt Nori.

“ _Better_.” Bifur signed, smiling back, and Nori did not resist as his quartermaster lead him away to get a drink of water and pet Ulmo.

He had his crew. As long as he had his ship and his crew, he’d be alright


	24. the hanging ship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Nori is not actually a very nice or good person.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, lots of warnings today:  
> Remember the Minor Character Deaths tag? It gets to play again today.  
> Also, we're now tagged for Violence and Execution.  
> I should also warn for child abuse and starvation  
> And for some brief rape-y fantasies.
> 
> ...sorry (tell me if there's anything else to warn about)

She was a British merchant ship, a tea clipper bound for the American colonies, and now she and everything aboard her belonged to the pirate Vulpes. She might be unbeatable for speed over the open sea, but was too cumbersome in maneuvers to escape the Bloody Gannet. They’d caught her, swarmed up and overwhelmed her crew – not that they’d put up much of a fight. They were worn down after their long voyage, and maybe they did not have much loyalty to the ship or each other. It happened, typically on ships where the crew were not well treated.

Whatever the reason, there were markets that would be _very_ happy to get the tea cheap and untaxed.

The Captain was on his knees at gunpoint on the deck, and Nori smiled.

“Pray we don’t come across any nasty surprises searching the hold, or your brains will get to make an intimate acquaintance of the deck.” Nori said conversationally, nodding to leave Bifur in charge on deck as he took a small group to inventory their take. There were some captains and crews who thought they were clever to set traps or ambushes in the ship when they were being boarded. Nori always made sure those who did did not have the chance to regret it long.

Nori and his crew found nothing unexpected, until Nori went down into the bilge. There were sometimes valuables hidden there when a ship was being taken by pirates.

That was where he found the boys.

Or one boy, on closer look. A boy and the body of another. Chained together in the wet and dark.

He looked up at Nori, all scrawny bones and hollow eyes, blinking up at the lamp with no understanding on his face. Poor thing couldn’t be older than twelve, if that. Nori saw them, the boy holding the body of another boy no older, and went very calm and still inside.

There would be time for rage later.

“I’m the pirate Vulpes.” He introduced, “I have taken this ship. It is now mine.”

“Don’t let the rats have his body.” the boy answered, and at least he knew his friend was dead. At least that was something Nori wasn’t going to have to tell him, “I don’t care what you do to me, Volpees, sir, but don’t let the rats have Rich. He made me promise I wouldn’t let them have him, and I’ve been keeping them off him.”

“I won’t let the rats have _either_ of you.” Nori promised as he waded through the foul water to the boy’s side. His chains were locked, but Nori did not have the time to try to find the key.

“What’s your name?” Nori asked as he expertly picked the locks open, freeing too-scrawny wrists with sores worn into them from the manacles.

“Will, sir.” the boy answered. What on earth could a cabin boy have even _done_ to make a captain think he deserved _this_? No one deserved this. It was torture, pure and simple, and Nori did not hold with torture.

“Why are you down here, Will?” Nori asked, working on the unfortunate Rich’s chains now. He was calm, so calm, a glass of still water – a deep pool with never a ripple on its surface.

“Rich stole bread. We were _so hungry_.” little Will was gazing down into his friend’s slack face, “…not hungry anymore.” he said softly.

Nori gently lifted Rich’s far-too-light body from his friend’s arms. “Come on.” he said, and walked back up to the stair. A quick whistle brought two of his crew, and Nori passed the body to them.

“Sew him into a hammock. Do it right.” Nori ordered. They would see that respects were given. He looked back to see how Will was faring, to see the boy hardly moved from his place.

“Can you walk?” Nori asked, returning to crouch at the boy’s side.

“I’m sorry, sir.” Will answered.

“Here.” Nori said simply, his heart as smooth and still as a polished stone in his chest as he placed one arm around the boy’s back and the other beneath his knees. “Hold on.”

Will was bigger than Rich had been, heavier, and Nori felt a warning twinge in the scar on his side as he picked him up. He ignored it, and carried him up from the bilge.

The boy cringed from the brightness of the sun when they reached the deck, hiding his face against Nori’s neck.

Word had not yet reached the deck of what Nori had found – the crew taking care of Rich’s body had not come up with the little hammock yet.

There was a stillness, a silence that spiraled out from Nori as what he was carrying was seen.

“Taiwo.” Nori said, quiet. “Take Will here to the Gannet and…”

Will took one look at the approaching man and cringed against Nori, holding tight to him with a tiny whimper.

“I know…” Nori soothed, rocking slightly back and forth to comfort the frightened boy, “I know… Taiwo looks fierce, and he is. He is a pirate on my ship, and before that he was a soldier of his own people, and between those he was something of a rebel, a privateer. He fought to free his people who were enslaved and chained up in the belly of a ship with their friends dying around them. But Taiwo took the slaver ships, and freed his people from their chains, and they killed the slavers.”

Will shivered against Nori, gazing back up at Taiwo who was patiently waiting.

“He’s a fierce fighter, but he’s a good man. He does not like to see anyone hurt. If I ask him to protect you, he’ll fight to the death to keep you safe. Even against me.” Nori promised, “Is that true, Taiwo?”

“Yes, Captain.” The big man nodded.

“Taiwo, protect Will.” Nori said, and this time the boy did not shrink away as he was placed in the big man’s arms.

Nori gently brushed the hair out of Wills pale, bruised face, met his haunted eyes. “Tell me Will.” He asked, “Is there anyone on this ship who tried to help you and Rich?”

“Tommy.” Will answered, looking toward a boy just a few years older.

“Tommy!” Nori ordered him over with a sharp gesture, and the boy hurried over wide-eyed. There was a stiffness in his motions that Nori recognized, someone who’d been recently whipped and was moving so it hurt as little as possible.

“Sir.” He said, nodding deeply to him. His gums were receding back from his teeth – scurvy, and he had the exhausted look about him to go with it.

“You can go with Will.” Nori said, gesturing him toward Will and Taiwo with a turn of his head. Tommy hesitated for only an instant before he threw himself at Will, holding tight to the boy in Taiwo’s arms.

“…how long has it been since you had anything fresh to eat?” Nori asked.

“Only officers are allowed shore leave.” Tommy answered, and the deep calm in Nori’s chest grew a layer of frost over it.

“Sir… Jones and Mosley helped me help too, sir.” Tommy said, nodding deep again and looking as though he expected to be punished for speaking out of turn.

“Jones, Mosley.” Nori ordered, and two sailors cautiously approached. Nori glanced at Tommy, and his nod showed that these were the right two.

“Take care of them.” Nori ordered, assigning a few of his crew to accompany them with a gesture, “You have two minutes to gather your things. Take them to the Bloody Gannet and see them fed and watered.”

He did not have to add ‘keep them below deck so they don’t have to see’. His crew knew that well enough already.

Bifur and Bofur were already tying nooses with the ship’s ropes.

Nori walked up to the captain of this miserable ship once they were gone, and he was calm – calm like a wall of ice is calm as it grinds the mountains down.

“You are a lucky man, that my crew and I don’t hold with torture.” Nori said quietly, “For torturers and the cowards who _let_ them, there is only one punishment.” He drew a pistol and carefully inspected it to see that it was still dry.

The captain was panting with fear now, eyes rolling in his head as he saw all of the Bloody Gannet’s crew with their guns ready, watching Nori for their cue – all his own crew unarmed and already defeated.

“I _would_ suggest you pray,” Nori said conversationally, “but it would be pointless. I don’t believe there is any God that would take the likes of you.”

The hammer of the pistol clicked back.

 

Nori put away his new books and smiled at the crates of tea that crowded every part of the Bloody Gannet. They were heavier in the water than they’d normally like, but they weren’t far from where they could sell the cargo.

He went down to the galley to check on the new sailors. They were eating big bowls of brothy soup, full of sprouted lentils and salted cabbage. It would help with the scurvy – make it a little better at least until they made land and got fresh fruit to take care of it entirely. They seemed hungry for it, if the rate they were eating was any indication.

Will was curled up in Tommy’s lap, eating slowly so his starvation-shrunken stomach did not rebel on him. Tommy held him close, and Taiwo presided over all. He’d look after them, and soon they could all have the choice of being left at a port to find other work or continuing on with the Bloody Gannet.

Nori waved away offers of food or drink, and let them be. There was not much to check on a ship as small as his, but he checked it all anyway. Every last seam in the hull that might someday need repair, every last tool they had, every piece of inventory on the ship, the condition of every stitch of their new sails.

His crew left him to it. They knew better than to interrupt him.

But late that night when there was nothing left to do and he was finally shaking and cursing his rage and throwing up all the acid in his empty stomach over the ship’s railing, Bifur was there. His hand rested on Nori’s shoulder, not signing anything, just _there_.

And it was enough.

.

The Cú Faoil had not seen hide nor hair of the Bloody Gannet in months of cruising the Caribbean, and Dwalin was not the only one who was worried by that.

It was not unheard of, but _unusual_ for them to not see junk sails on the horizon for so long. As much as Dwalin did _not_ want to see that ship, he desperately wanted to see it. The Bloody Gannet’s proximity had become a comfort, especially after how they’d seen her last. Dwalin dreaded the thought of seeing Vulpes again, and dreaded finding out that the cocky little pirate had died saving him.

But there was no sign or news of the Bloody Gannet, and the crew of the Cú Faoil worried for their friends.

Dwalin worried with them, and worried for himself if they _did_ come across the Gannet again and Vulpes were on it. Dwalin _wanted_ to be loyal to his Lady, but his mind still wandered to Vulpes’ kisses, his hands, his mouth – looking up into his face in the gunsmoke of battle. When Dwalin was with his Lady he wanted nothing more than to worship her. When he was near Vulpes his baser desires took hold.

Dwalin _loved_ his Lady, but he still carried Vulpes’ knife on his belt, his turn-off pistol at his side. He carried them, waiting to return them to the pirate he did and did not ever want to see again. Sometimes at night he practiced the ways he might say ‘no’ to the pirate.

Even in his own imagination he only managed it half the time. Far too often it ended with Dwalin biting his lips to keep quiet as he spilled his seed into his hand to the thought of the pirate smirking at his words and knocking him to his knees or shoving him up against the nearest convenient object to have his way with him.

For Dwalin, it would probably be best if he never saw Vulpes again, and that thought hurt. The most likely reason Dwalin would never see Vulpes again was if he hadn’t survived saving Dwalin’s crew.

Dwalin wanted, and he did not want. He hoped and he did not hope, and he worried along with his crew the longer they did not see the Bloody Gannet.

 

It was a strange ship, on the horizon. There was something _wrong_ with it, with the sails. She was flying British colors, so Dwalin gave the order to sail closer.

“Oh my _God_.” The lookout recoiled, horror written on his face, “They’re not sails, they’re bodies. Hanged bodies.”

Bodies, hanging from the spars. Though the wind was the other direction, the Cú Faoil could _smell_ the rot. The ship was dragging her anchor, floating aimless before current and wind with her crew hanging in place of sails.

A ship of the dead.

“Why?” Dwalin breathed. Who could do such a thing? It was a gruesome message, obviously, but to who, and why?

“Captain.” Harris was using the spyglass to get a closer look. His lips were curled in distaste, but he was doing what he saw as his duty to figure out what had happened here, “There seems to be a note? Two copies on the main mast, and another pinned to the door of the captain’s cabin. Also, the bodies were probably dead when they were hung. They seem to have been shot between the eyes.”

“I need volunteers to cut them down.” Dwalin said, “We should give our countrymen a proper sea burial.”

“I’ll lead the group.” Harris offered, and Dwalin nodded to him.

He watched from the deck of the Cú Faoil while Harris and a handful of brave men with strong stomachs and cloths over their faces rowed a boat over to the dead ship.

…but they did not cut the bodies down. Harris took a copy of the note, and then ordered something else. They poured barrels of powder on the deck instead, setting a lit lamp in the midst of it, and left the bodies still swaying in the wind.

The volunteers were all a touch green when the boat was winched back up.

“You didn’t cut them down.” Dwalin observed. He trusted his first mate’s judgment, but it did seem unlike him.

“The note, Captain.” Harris said, glancing back at the ship and shuddering before turning his back to it firmly as he began to read.

“ _For the starvation of the little cabin boys Will and Rich, found imprisoned in the bilge, severity enough to have caused the death of the latter, and the former near to it – and for other gross abuse and cruelties, none of which any of these men lifted a finger to prevent – the captain of this vessel and all his crew are sentenced to death._

“ _May the devil take their souls.”_

“Ah.” Dwalin said, familiar old anger at abusive captains and officers burning behind his teeth. This might be an extreme answer to it, but he could see why Harris had not been so eager to give the bodies their proper burial.

“It’s repeated in three different languages, and signed with VPS, very pretty.” Harris finished, “Do you suppose… Vulpes?”

Dwalin could hear his crew’s excited speculation at that. Vulpes – the pirate was as protective of his crew as Dwalin was of his. He might have such a reaction to boarding a ship and finding children dying in the bilge.

He might have lived, and be back in the Caribbean now – and Dwalin was as torn about that as he ever was.

“You think to burn the ship?” Dwalin asked, and Harris nodded. It was better than leaving them to rot under the sun. A better fate for them, and better than having to handle the decaying bodies of those who would do nothing to prevent a child’s starvation.

It took three shots, from the distance, to break the oil lamp and set the powder ablaze.

They sailed away with a greasy column of black smoke rising from the dead ship, and they were quiet, all of them.

VPS. Vulpes.

He might be out there, sailing the sea not too far away. Taking British ships, which he should not, and executing entire abusive crews – which Dwalin could understand, even if he did not agree with the method.

Vulpes.

Dwalin’s hand brushed across the handle of the curved knife that had cut him free when he would have been executed, and then down to his pocket where his pocketwatch locket rested, his Lady’s ribbons safe behind glass to remind him of her when he was far away.

He did not know at all what he wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To wash that out of our mouths, there is art by the lovely Hattie!  
> http://hattedhedgehog.tumblr.com/image/92843589012


	25. circling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Cú Faoil spot the Bloody Gannet

"Junk sails!” the lookout shouted, setting the crew of the Cú Faoil scrambling to try and see, “The Bloody Gannet!”

Dwalin practically _ran_ to the quarterdeck, straining his eyes through the late afternoon sunshine at a distant speck.

“Raise the flag!” Dwalin ordered, “Green and white, invite them in!” Dwalin’s hands closed tight on the railing as the crew excitedly obeyed.

“Is Vulpes there?” Dwalin asked quieter, just to Harris who had a spyglass, “Can you see him?”

“We’re still too far out.” Harris answered, which Dwalin _knew_ , but he still grabbed the spyglass to try for himself. Even with the spyglass they were indistinct, just the unmistakeable shape of the Bloody Gannet.

Dwalin huffed as he handed the spyglass back.

It took an eternity for the ships to sail up to each other. The lookout began calling out names as he recognized people on the other ship – but not Captain Vulpes.

Dwalin found himself pacing and sat himself on the bottom step up to the quarterdeck, heart twisting with more than he should ever feel for another man, hand clenched tight on the handle of a curved knife. If Vulpes weren’t there, if the pirate had died for him…

Dwalin forced himself to breathe regularly. He was composed as their crews made their ships fast, standing ready to greet the first to board as his heart bled. He recognized Bifur and Bofur, who he knew both knew English though Bifur was mute. They’d be in charge now, wouldn’t they? They’d been first mate and quartermaster.

The door of the captain’s cabin opened, and Vulpes strode out. He had a smile on his face, that cocky grin that was more than half sneer. A lacy ribbon tied the end of his fiery braid, still lean as a snake and moving with the same kind of fluid grace.

Dwalin leapt across to the smaller ship’s deck without thought, before the ships were finished being tied. It was bad form – could be construed as an attack as _his_ was the ship that had invited boarding – but Dwalin’s eyes were on nothing but the pirate Captain.

“Vulpes.” Dwalin breathed. He had no other words as he walked up to the smaller man. Vulpes looked good, he looked _healthy_ , with color in his heavily sun-speckled cheeks. He moved well, and his eyes sparkled sky-blue and sea-gray behind the rough smear of dark paint across them.

Dwalin reached one hand out to place it on Vulpes’ shoulder, almost expecting it to fall through nothing and berating himself for the superstitious thought as his hand landed on a narrow shoulder.

“You _lived_.” the words choked out of Dwalin’s throat, and he grabbed tight to the smaller man, pulled him in. He wrapped himself around Vulpes, dragged the lean little man into a hug harder than he probably should. His face was pressed into smooth red hair that smelled of coconuts, his big hands covering the tight muscles of his back, soft front of the pirate’s body pressed to Dwalin’s front.

Vulpes was tense in his arms for only an instant before he melted into the embrace, beautiful tiny man safe and close in Dwalin’s arms.

“You lived.” Dwalin repeated, the aching weight of it lifting from his chest.

“Didn’t know you cared.” Vulpes answered, muffled against Dwalin’s chest, and Dwalin pushed him back to see him again.

“Of course I _care_. You’re our friend, and you saved me.” Dwalin answered, “You saved us _all_.” He gestured to his crew, only then noticing how everyone was watching them.

With the privacy of the moment broken, both crews saw fit to cheer and whistle and stomp. There were even a few shouts of ‘kiss’. Dwalin drew back further, feeling the heat of embarrassment beneath his collar.

“This is yours.” Dwalin said, carefully unhooking the curved knife from his belt and handing it back to the smiling pirate. The gun he gave back too, and Vulpes seemed satisfied with the condition Dwalin had kept them in as he set the second knife on the back of his belt to match the first and hooked the gun to his belt at his side.

This seemed to have sufficed in place of formal greetings, and both crews began swarming from boat to boat to greet their friends and share news.

This was no planned party, there was no pile of coconuts and barrel of rum, but both ships brought out the best of what they had. The Cú Faoil and crew had been ashore most recently, and still had pineapples and papayas and oranges. The Bloody Gannet had a crate of coconut sugar cakes and a rack of wine bottles that should have been aged in a dark cellar for months to re-settle, but instead made a good punch with oranges and pineapple and sugar.

Dwalin’s hands would not keep to himself as he showed Vulpes the repairs that had been done on the Cú Faoil, as Vulpes showed him the same on the Gannet. He stopped it whenever he noticed, but his hands wanted to rest on the pirate’s shoulder, on his arm, stroke the smoothness of his long braid from the delicate nape of his neck down to the round curve of his arse.

Vulpes smiled at him with far too many sharp teeth and hunger burning low in his bright eyes as Dwalin pulled his hand back from touching him yet again.

He was relieved that Vulpes had survived. He owed his life and that of his crew to the man’s friendship. He’d greeted him and thanked him and given him back his knife and pistol. Now Dwalin needed to keep away from him, because loved his Lady, his sweet forgiving Norine who should _never_ have to forgive him again.

Dwalin decided it, and he _would_ do it, but somehow he didn’t. Vulpes did not seem to feel like standing anywhere but beside Dwalin, and somehow when Dwalin sat down Vulpes sat in his lap. Dwalin was not exactly sure _how_ it had happened, but it was as likely that Vulpes had elected to take the opportunity to sit on him when the option presented itself as it was that Dwalin had been holding onto the pirate _again_ and pulled him down with him when he sat.

He _fit_ there, in Dwalin’s lap.

None of the crews even seemed to think it was strange – though it was still daylight out for anyone to see, many of them were already dividing up into couples and small groups to flirt.

Dwalin did his best not to notice. He took particular pains not to notice the predatory way the Boston boys were encroaching on Harris’ personal space and how pleased Harris seemed to be about it.

Vulpes did not try to press his advantage, sitting in Dwalin’s lap. He simply leaned back against him, comfortable and close as their crews celebrated. If he’d tried to flirt, Dwalin would have pushed him away, would have left.

He wondered if it was true even as he decided it.

It _seemed_ harmless enough, sitting there with Vulpes, and it was comfortable. Dwalin did not want to move. He found his arm wrapping around the pirate to keep him close, his hand resting on Vulpes’ right side.

His right side… there had been _so much_ blood pouring down from it in the screaming and gunsmoke of battle.

Dwalin had his hand halfway under the small man’s shirt, lifting it to see, before he even finished the thought. Vulpes’ hand closed in a hard grip on his wrist, and Dwalin stilled. He glanced up at the pirates no-longer-smiling face, lips pinched thin and eyes flint and frozen amber.

“You were shot.” Dwalin said, quietly, just between the two of them among their celebrating crews. “For me. For _us_. Let me see?” he begged. He needed suddenly, _burningly_ , to see the cost that had been paid for his life.

Vulpes was still for a long moment, eyes weighing him, before he shifted to straddle Dwalin. He removed first his jacket, and then undid the sash around his frilly gray silk shirt before he raised its hem and that of the shirt he wore beneath it up to his ribs.

He had ink, a tattoo wrapped around his side, and bursting through it a red knot of a scar. Dwalin reached for it on instinct, but hesitated, looking to Vulpes for his nod of approval before he finished the motion. His skin was soft and nearly hairless – but not all men were walking rugs like Dwalin. He could feel the strength of the pirate’s muscles beneath his hand, but there was also a layer softness to his belly and spreading toward his hips.

The scar was what held Dwalin’s attention, though. His fingers told him it had gone clear through as they brushed an answering scar on the back. For Dwalin, he’d gotten this scar. For Dwalin, he could have easily bled out or died of infection. Vulpes twitched as Dwalin rubbed his thumb across the scar as if he could smudge it out. Erase it from his body.

“It hurts?” Dwalin asked, pulling his fingers away from the scar at his reaction.

“No.” Vulpes answered, “Twinges sometimes, but not too bad. It’s just tender. My patron got a good surgeon to see us all.”

“Patron?” Dwalin asked. He was sponsored by Balin, but he’d never suspected anyone would sponsor a _pirate_. They’d be hanged too if they were caught at it.

“Kinsman of mine, of reduced means but still enjoys the finer things in life. It’s a convenient arrangement for both of us.” Vulpes was answering, but Dwalin’s attention was back on his skin, his narrow belly to the soft swell of his hips all decorated in ink and the price of Dwalin’s life punched through it.

He lifted the small man easily, and Vulpes let him – steadied himself with a hand on Dwalin’s shoulder as he leaned down to softly press his lips to the scar. Vulpes breathed in sharply, but otherwise did not react.

His cheeks were flushed red when Dwalin gently lowered him again.

“Thank you.” Dwalin said, and it was not nearly enough.

There was a breathless moment when Dwalin was looking up at Vulpes, the pirate looking back down at him. One moment when Dwalin might have stretched up to beg a kiss of the man who’d risked his life for him, who’d cut him free in the smoke of battle.

A burst of laughter too close broke the moment, shattering the illusion of privacy. Dwalin looked away quickly and began smoothing Vulpes’ shirts back down. He had his Lady, his sweet Norine betrothed to him at home on Sarnay. He should not even _if_ they were alone. He _would_ not.

Vulpes had a lot of layers, for the heat. The light undershirt seemed to have a sort of vest over it, but it stopped with Vulpes’ ribs, so maybe it was not too warm. Dwalin smoothed down Vulpes’ gray silk shirt with the ruffles in the front and carefully tied his sash back around him. The shirt gleamed nearly violet when the light hit it just so, and Dwalin smiled slightly.

“I was with you when you stole this.” He remembered. It had been bigger, at the time.

“I had several things made of them.” Vulpes answered lightly, turning back around to sit on Dwalin’s lap.

“Thank you.” Dwalin said again, as Vulpes arranged his arm to his liking around him, holding him close and comfortable. The pirate waved it off lazily this time.

“Couldn’t let you die.” He said, “I need my wolfhound. Who else would I get to chase the Spanish treasure ships into the Gannet’s clutches?”

“You _bastard_.” Dwalin could laugh at it now, far from any stolen ships – though if Vulpes pulled that trick again he’d be just as angry as he ever was. “Lucky you’re so damn slippery, or I’d have killed you.”

The pirate threw his head back and laughed like it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard.

“More slippery than you know.” he sighed, still chuckling as he lay his head back on Dwalin’s shoulder.

 

Late afternoon quickly became evening, and the cooks of both ships had collaborated for a stew that smelled heavenly. There was even fresh meat in it thanks to Nakili and Mina.

Vulpes had removed himself from Dwalin’s lap at some point, but was still leaning against his side and Dwalin’s arm kept finding its way around him. Dwalin was going to dislodge him to go get himself a bowl of stew, but two were brought over by a scrawny little cabin boy before he managed to gather himself for it. The boy smiled like the sun was rising when Vulpes thanked him and scruffed the messy mop of hair on his head.

“He’s new.” Dwalin said, indicating the cabin boy.

“Mmm.” Vulpes agreed with a nod, “Pulled him out of the bilge of a tea clipper, scurvy and half-dead of starvation, protecting his best friend’s body from the rats. A good boy, Will.”

“So it _was_ you, Harris said the note was signed VPS.” Dwalin said, suddenly a bit less hungry for the stew as he remembered that awful ship. “Hung the whole crew from the spars for it.”

“Better than they deserved.” Vulpes snapped, all sharp teeth. “ _They_ didn’t suffer.”

Dwalin didn’t answer that right away, making himself taste the stew and glancing toward little Will, who had run back to the stew pot and was now carrying bowls for himself and the other cabin boys of both ships – gathered together playing knucklebones in a corner of the deck.

He was barefoot and laughing as he handed the bowls over, eager little boy wanting to make himself friendly and useful. The monster who could chain him up to die in the dark did not deserve anything better.

“I can understand that.” Dwalin said. “…we burned the ship. We had to report her loss – including the condition we found her in – but our report failed to mention the signature on the note.” They had their loyalty to their country, but their loyalty to the friends who’d saved their lives ran a touch deeper. Dwalin had not mentioned the signature in the report he dictated to Harris, and it’s addition had not been among Harris’ suggestions.

Vulpes bumped shoulders against Dwalin briefly and smiled as he ate his stew, and Dwalin did the same.

 

After dinner the punch was refreshed with more fruit and sugar and someone’s personal stash of Russian vodka. Dwalin suspected the vapors coming off it now would burn clear and strong, but fire and ships did not mix well and he did not want to try it.

Little Will brought over a pitcher of it to fill Dwalin and Vulpes’ cups, topping up other cups as he went.

“Little scoundrel.” Vulpes laughed when he’d gone, and Dwalin gave him a questioning look. “Oh, he’s only helping so he can steal boozy fruit to give to the other cabin boys.”

Dwalin immediately began looking for his cabin boys. They were his responsibility.

“Over there.” Vulpes pointed them out for him, “Don’t worry. Taiwo’s got an eye on them. He’ll cut him off before they get drunk.”

Dwalin relaxed against Vulpes again. He _trusted_ Taiwo to look after the cabin boys if Vulpes did, just as he trusted his crew to get drunk with Vulpes’ crew. No one was going to hurt each other. The only one he didn’t trust here was himself with Vulpes, and he was careful not to drink too much.

Lamps were lit all over both ships, music played and dances danced as the crews enjoyed each others company.

Vulpes tried to pull Dwalin out into the dance, but he managed to keep out of the pirate’s grasp.

“I don’t dance.” he protested, and the small man finally left him with a laugh and a flip of his long gleaming braid.

Dwalin did not dance, but Vulpes did and he was beautiful. He moved with snake-deadly fluid grace, dancing here and there until he settled in with Bofur. Both of them were laughing, circling like it was a fight as they stepped around each other in a dance Dwalin did not recognize. Vulpes’ small hand was pale against Bofur’s as they circled palm to palm – turned and circled the opposite direction without breaking eye contact. They were back to back and front to front, sure and easy with each other.

And what Dwalin wouldn’t give for that to be _him_ with an arm wrapped around the pirate captain’s slender body, spinning him out and then drawing him back in, face cupped to the side of his face. He’d like to grab Vulpes out of his first mate’s arms and…

Dwalin wrenched his mind away from that line of thought. Vulpes was not _his_ he he was not _Vulpes’_. Dwalin belonged to his Lady, his perfect Norine and he _could not_ be coveting the pirate’s touch and attention, fire beneath his skin.

It was going to end badly.

Dwalin stood quickly, leaving his cup of undrunk punch behind as he fled to his cabin as discreetly as he could.

Hardly had he closed the door behind him and begun to try to calm himself when it opened again.

He did not look up. He did not have to to know it was Vulpes joining him, hungry smile on his face as he closed in for the kill.

Dwalin squared his shoulders and took a deep breath. This was it. He had to _try._ It didn’t usually work, even just alone in his own mind, but he had to try.

“No.” he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You don't even want to know how upset I am that someone who has scurvy is called 'scurvy' rather than 'scurvid'. It should follow rabies logic!  
> *glares at the english language*


	26. like

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is smut

Nori followed Dwalin when the Cú Faoil’s Captain went to his cabin.

If he’d locked the door behind him Nori wouldn’t have picked it, but he _didn’t_ , so Nori let himself in.

He did debated with himself about it. Dwalin had been _so_ torn about what he saw as his infidelity last time, Nori was almost tempted to let him alone. But there was also the way Dwalin _looked_ at him now, the way he _touched_ him.

It was the same worshipful way Dwalin looked at Norine, and Nori had never hoped to see directed toward _him_. It was love, in the softness of the wolfhound’s brown eyes and the tenderness of the press of his lips to the bullet’s scar.

It was the same love, Dwalin’s big heart encompassing both Norine and Vulpes, but while the privateer hardly dared touch Norine, he did not have the same problem with Vulpes.

It felt so good to be held, to finally be cradled close and petted and desired. Nori was not nearly done with _that_.

Dwalin left to his cabin, and Nori followed. It was a nice cabin, simply furnished with a place for everything and everything in its place. Comfortable. No books, unfortunately, but it made up for that lack by containing Dwalin. Nori let his eyes wander across the big man, the gorgeous breadth of his shoulders, the rough mane of his hair so wild when he was not trying to tame it to impress anyone, the size of his hands and the strong line of his back.

“No.” Dwalin said quietly, not looking at Nori.

“Dwalin?” Nori asked, unsure exactly what Dwalin was protesting.

“No.” Dwalin growled, and he finally turned to look at Nori. The pain in his eyes was unexpected, “I am to be _married_. I love her. I am _hers,_ no matter how much I want you.”

Nori did not move, though he could feel the smile spreading across his face. He was wanted, and loved, and Dwalin was faithful and honest.

“No.” Dwalin repeated, misery in his expression, “I choose her. I will _always_ choose her. She is a goddess among women and she forgave me. I will _never_ make her forgive me again.” He stepped back as he spoke and stumbled into a chest, sitting down hard and his expression begging.

“And if you did not _have_ to choose?” Nori asked. “If you could have both pirate and lady?” the beautiful emerald locket burned on his breast beneath his clothes – so easy to draw out and show…

“If gold grew on trees.” Dwalin answered bitterly, shaking his head against the possibility, and Nori’s words died in a kernel of cold fear in his stomach. He _knew_ there was no safer place to tell Dwalin. If he took it badly, Nori’s entire crew were there to back him up.

Drunk off their asses, most of them, but that wouldn’t stop them from fighting for him. It would be a brawl, a big ugly drunken brawl.

But Dwalin was looking up at him with _so much_ hunger in his eyes. Would he ever _want_ Nori like that again once he knew? He didn’t want Lady Norine like that.

He was determined not to see. He’d recognized Nori’s shirt as one he stole from a Spanish captain, but not the bodice made of the same material. He’d seen the bottom edge of Nori’s flattening vest, the bare curve of his waist to his hips, and he did not _see_. Granted Nori’s body was not the most feminine, thank God and the hard work it took to run a ship, but he could have seen if he’d wanted to.

Dwalin did not want to see, and Nori should have told him. He knew he should, it was cruel to leave Dwalin torn when he did not have to be.

“I shouldn’t want you, but you are fire burning under my skin where it can’t be quenched.” Dwalin said, watching Nori with hungry eyes begging. He saw a man and _wanted_ him, and Nori _wanted_ Dwalin to want him as a man.

Nori _should_ tell him, or at the least leave him be, but he never had been a _good_ man. He wanted Dwalin, and Dwalin wanted him.

The big privateer breathed out something that might have been a moan if given voice as Nori stepped closer. He was practically melting before him, the tension in his muscles relaxing and already half-hard in his trousers from the bulge as he gazed up at Nori. So open, so willing, Nori had always liked him that way.

…did he expect Nori would ignore his protests and do as he liked? Vulpes had always been bold with Dwalin, and he might not be a good man, but he’d never been like _that_. ‘No’ was a simple enough word to understand.

He killed enough men who thought otherwise.

Nori leaned down close, and Dwalin lifted his face toward him, lips parting as if for a kiss.

“Then I won’t touch you.” Nori breathed against his lips, drawing back as Dwalin leaned toward him.

He was already away and behind Dwalin by the time he let out a soft sound of loss.

“Bit of a shame.” Nori breathed against Dwalin’s ear next, running his fingers across the broad expanse of Dwalin’s shoulders, “I liked having you. I’d like to have you again.”

“…touching me.” Dwalin pointed out, even as he leaned his head to the side to bare the side of his neck to Nori.

“Touching your _shirt_.” Nori corrected. “Nothing wrong with that… and how about I promise not to touch even _that_ any lower than your shoulders? That’s less than you were doing to me earlier, in front of everyone.”

Dwalin trembled at Nori’s breath against his neck, skin and muscle right there to kiss or bite, but Nori resisted. No touching.

“Tell me to leave you be and I will.” Nori offered against the opposite side of his neck, lips only _almost_ brushing Dwalin’s red-flushed skin. “Tell me to stop and I’m gone. Do you want me to stop?”

Dwalin made a soft sound that was almost a whimper before he very slightly shook his head.

“Good boy.” Nori praised, and watched Dwalin’s body tense with pleasure at it.

“I’d like to have you again.” he said, returned to his previous thought, “You’re so willing, so obedient. Who could ask for more? I’d like to have you moaning for me again. Get my fingers in your hair to give it a little pull while I kiss you and bite your lip. You _like_ that, don’t you?” Nori asked, but Dwalin only answered with a tremble.

“Do you like that?” Nori asked, stilling.

“I… I like it.” Dwalin answered, shifting where he sat to try and ease the tightness of his trousers, and Nori rewarded him with a hum and a squeeze to the muscle of his shoulder.

“I know you do. Arch and push yourself all against me when I do. I’d like to have my hands all over you, feel those big hands of yours stroking all down my body.” Nori purred, and Dwalin shifted his legs again, palming at his cock to try to adjust it to comfort.

“Let it out.” Nori urged, “I didn’t get to see it in the dark. Pushed you back against the cannon and had my way, but I didn’t get to _see_.”

Dwalin’s fingers shook as he undid his buttons and drew out his cock. Nori couldn’t help his sound of hunger. It was big to match Dwalin, thick and red-flushed where it emerged from his foreskin. Nori’s mouth was watering remembering the weight and taste of it in his mouth.

“Go on.” Nori breathed, coming back around to the front of Dwalin, “ _I_ can’t touch you. I can’t stroke that beautiful cock for you, much as I’d like to.”

Dwalin’s hand obediently closed around his cock, stroking it quick as he panted, eyes closed and head falling back.

“Slower, slower.” Nori instructed, “Smooth, long strokes.” Dwalin groaned long and low as he obeyed. Nori licked his lips as he watched the head of Dwalin’s cock appear and reappear in his hand.

“I’d like to suck you off again.” he said, his voice coming out rough with his own arousal at Dwalin’s beautiful show, “I’d like feel you, to _taste_ you… I liked sucking you off. I like to think about it when I’m stroking myself. You liked it too, didn’t you?”

“Yes.” Dwalin gasped out, not needing prompting to know he was meant to answer.

“Tell me.” Nori ordered, coming around behind him again, fingers trailing along his collar.

“Oh God.” Dwalin whimpered, “Your _mouth_. So smooth and so warm and tight and your _tongue_. Filthy pirate tongue, ‘s no right to be so good.”

“And then what, after I sucked you off and swallowed you all down?” Nori asked. “Slower.” he reminded, “Slow strokes.”

“Give it back.” Dwalin answered, “Suck you off too. ‘m not as good as you but give you everything you like. Stroke your beautiful little body, and worship you, and let you pull my hair and fuck my mouth as long as you like.”

“I’d like that.” Nori answered, voice hoarse and his nipples aching against the constriction of his vest, the insistent ache of _want_ settled low in his groin. “…but I’d like to fuck you more.” his lips _almost_ brushed the back of Dwalin’s ear, and his tongue darted out to flick against the gold ring through his lobe. Not touching _him_ , just the earring.

Dwalin gasped, back arching at the suggestion.

“Would you like that?” Nori asked.

“Dunno. Yes?” Dwalin answered, trembling through as he kept his strokes slow and long, his hips rocking into his hand.

“Have you ever been fucked?” Nori asked, and Dwalin shook his head.

“I’d be good to you.” Nori promised, with all the heat of his desire pooling in his belly, “Lay you out and take my time. Start you slow and gentle, lots of oil for slick so nothing hurts or pinches and just my slender fingers to start you.” Nori rubbed little circles with his fingertips on the tops of Dwalin’s shoulders, “Have you ever had anything in you?”

“M-my fingers. I liked, _God_ I liked it I’ll be hanged…” Dwalin gasped out.

“Shh, no one’s going to hang you.” Nori promised, “You’re safe at sea, and half the crew are buggering each other by now. Nobody cares.”

Dwalin’s breath was almost a sob, and Nori didn’t have the heart to tell him to slow down his strokes again. Let him speed up just a little. His cock was slicked now with his own pre-spending, glistening red through his palm.

“I’d be gentle with you, when I fucked you.” Nori continued, “Ease you open and slide my pretty red cock into you – all slick and smooth and curved just right. I’d fuck you slow, slow, until you _begged_ me for harder. Fuck you until you cried for pleasure and begged to be let finish, my sweet wolfhound all sweating and trembling for me.”

“Vulpes, please.” Dwalin gasped, and the only way it could be more perfect was if he’d called him ‘Nori’ and he were allowed to touch.

“You can stroke yourself as fast as you like.” Nori instructed, coming back around to the front to stand over him, hands resting on Dwalin’s shoulders, “If you open your eyes and tell me how much you want me.”

Dwalin opened his yes, begging brown looking up into Nori’s for a moment before he closed them again with a whimper.

“Look at me. Tell me.” Nori whispered, and Dwalin’s eyes opened again. He was flushed red with his pleasure, breathing like a bellows.

“I want you.” he groaned, his eyes trying to dart off to the sides but returning always to Nori’s face, “Vulpes. I want you. Like. Like fire, you burn. Like drowning. I can’t breathe, can’t swim, can’t _not_. I… I want you… like…” Dwalin’s eyes rolled back, his head falling back as his body arched and shook in his climax, words lost to him.

“Good boy.” Nori breathed.

 

Dwalin spent into his hand with ‘everything’ unsaid on his lips, Vulpes’ nails cutting into his shoulders through his shirt, sweet pain with the pleasure of a climax teased out for longer than Dwalin would ever give himself alone.

The pirate’s eyes were gold fire in the lamplight when he looked up at him again, cheeks flushed red and his lips moistly parted as he watched Dwalin.

Dwalin wiped his seed off on the tails of his own shirt and grabbed Vulpes by the front of his, yanked him into his lap and kissed him.

Vulpes answered with _hunger_ , soft lips and sharp teeth and tongue thrusting hard back into Dwalin’s mouth like he was fucking him the way he’d promised and Dwalin moaned against it.

“Let me.” he begged, _needing_ to pleasure Vulpes, to give back to him. He reached for the smaller man’s groin, groping for…

Vulpes grabbed his wrist, pulled his hand back, but not before Dwalin had felt _nothing_.

Dwalin drew back, looked down at the flat front of the pirate’s trousers, no bulge of a hard cockerel to be found.

“You didn’t like.” Dwalin gasped, all that and he’d not enjoyed?

“Oh, I liked.” Vulpes purred, bright sneering grin as he straddled Dwalin’s lap, and Dwalin tried to make sense of that. There were old men who couldn’t… but Vulpes was far too young to be unable to get up.

Unless…

“Are you a eunuch?” Dwalin asked. He’d been all over the world, and were some places in the world where some crimes were punished by castration, and it _would_ explain his softer face and his lack of hair when he was obviously not as young as he looked.

“I have all the bits God gave me.” Vulpes answered with a touch of laugh in his voice. He waited for a beat, as though waiting for Dwalin to come up with another explanation before he leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to Dwalin’s bearded cheek.

“Come find me when you figure it out.” He whispered, and then he’d slipped out of Dwalin’s grip and sauntered back out of his cabin.

The ship’s bell began ringing and Dwalin heard Vulpes shouting fifteen minute warning, that they were shoving off.

He was sweaty and slow in the wake of his climax, his clothes all in disarray and covered with his own seed.

And he did not know at all what he was supposed to have understood.


	27. solo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the smut continues.
> 
> 52k without Nori getting any. Clearly this was a situation that had to be remedied.

Nori saw the crews separated out and made sure there were enough sailors who weren’t too drunk to sail the Bloody Gannet, and then retired to his cabin.

He needed a little time to himself. With Dwalin holding him, touching him and looking at him, he’d been _plenty_ slippery when Dwalin accused him of it.

Now, after watching Dwalin bring himself off, his arousal had become nearly painful, unattended. He ached for touch, but luckily he had the necessary tools at his disposal.

Nori pulled his box of toys out of a drawer while he wrestled his way out of his clothes, and smiled at the selection as he lay on his bunk. He picked up his favorite – _his_ cock – slender and smooth, pretty red-lacquered wood and attached to a supple leather harness so Nori _could_ fuck Dwalin like he’d promised.

Someday, if he was lucky. Dwalin would figure it out, he must, and if Nori were very lucky he’d take it well and he’d get to have him. There was _nothing_ like having a bigger man that way, and Dwalin was so sweet. Nori gave his cock a fond stroke and set it back in the box, pondering the other options.

His fingers trailed across the largest, remembering Dwalin’s big cock sliding through his hand, the size and weight of it on his tongue.

On a whim he grabbed it up, along with two tapered ones and the oil.

God, yes… someday, if he was _very_ good, Nori’d let Dwalin fuck him. Not the front – _never_ the front he couldn’t risk it – but he could let Dwalin have his arse.

Nori generously slicked the slenderest with oil and began gently rubbing it against himself. His body relaxed easily to allow it entrance, and he moaned as he slowly fucked himself with it.

It would start with Dwalin’s fingers, big fingers all slicked with oil and so gentle. He’d lie behind Nori on his side, warm breath and soft kisses against the nape of his neck. Nori would lean back against Dwalin’s broad chest, close and safe and _wanted_ , and Dwalin would do everything he said.

Slow, slow and gradual, gently fucking him with a single finger until he was ready for a second. Nori’s body had accepted the slender wooden cock to the hilt, at its widest point. He held it in place and ground against it for a moment as he reached down to stroke his… cock. Today it was a cock. Not always. Sometimes it was a pearl. Sometimes it was a peachick, a lover had affectionately dubbed it that as it was too little for a cockerel, but she’d still loved pet and suck it. Today it was Nori’s cock, little bud standing proud above his folds and aching for touch.

He dampened two fingers with his own slick and stroked to the sides of it, catching and pulling it at each pass. The intensity of it was near unbearable at the peak of each stroke when it slipped between the pinch of his fingers. His back arched with a deep groan, it was so good and he was so _ready._ It would be _so_ easy to finish this way, but he wanted more first.

Nori reluctantly let his cock go, breathing through the releasing tension of his muscles as he drew back from the edge. He quickly slicked the second tapered wooden cock with oil and eased the first slender one out to replace it with its big brother.

This one took more patience. Dwalin would be patient, wouldn’t he? Of course he would, he was so good. He’d slide his big fingers into Nori slowly enough, and with enough oil, that nothing would hurt. Attentive and obedient and warm against Nori’s back.

Nori was breathing in sharp little huffs by the time he’d worked himself down all the way on the second tapered cock, spread wide on it. He touched his cock gently, tiny circles with a fingertip to feed its hungry ache, not enough to finish yet though he _burned_ for his release, just enough to send trembles through his entire body as he arched and clenched on nothing and the wooden cock.

“Oh God…” Nori breathed. It was _so_ tempting to finish now, he was so close and so hungry for it. It would take so little to push him over the edge, but he wanted _more_ and forced himself to hold off.

The biggest wooden cock was pale wood, clear lacquered. It had a distinct bulge before the base, so it stayed put those rare times Nori was ambitious enough to use it.

He wanted the stretch of it today.

No.

He wanted _Dwalin_ , but it would do for now.

He oiled it carefully before he eased the second tapered cock out. He oiled his arse too for good measure before he began pressing its blunt tip into himself. There couldn’t be _too much_ oil for a cock the size of this one.

Oh, Dwalin. He’d be just as big, but warmer, soft skin over the hard resilience of his cock. His arms would wrap all the way around Nori, keep him close and kiss his neck and moan as he finally, patiently, joined their bodies. He’d have to be patient, so patient. He was so big and Nori was so small. Nori would have to trust him to be careful, to pay attention, to _listen_. He _wanted_ to trust him. He wanted to have Dwalin fuck him.

Nori’s legs were shaking now, sweat on his neck. He’d reached the bulge now, and fucked himself slowly, slowly against it. More oil was spread on the big wooden cock, and finally it slid into Nori’s body. Like it belonged there.

Nori groaned Dwalin’s name as he began stroking his cock again, slow and slick between two fingers. He was so _full_ , spread so wide on the wooden cock it almost hurt when his muscles tried to clench down on it, sweet ache of emptiness in the front as it clenched too, drenched in slick.

He was so _so_ close now, the fire of his long-delayed climax burning in the backs of his thighs, coiling up his spine and choking in the back of his throat. So close.

His fingers stroked his cock faster, faster, his body arching up against the intensity of the pleasure until his body could take no more and it broke.

A sharp cry broke from his throat as his body bucked. He ground his palm down over his cock so every jolt of his climax rubbed against it, sending him higher. His hips jumped, humping air and slamming back down on the mattress of his bunk again and again. He kicked the wall at least twice.

“Dwalin!” he whimpered. What he wouldn’t give to have the big privateer here in his bunk, here inside him. Holding him and filling him, pleasuring him until he could take no more and collapsed into a loose pile of trembling limbs, face buried in his pillow.

Outside the captain’s cabin, the crew began whistling and cheering, shouting congratulations. Well, that’s what he got for not being quiet, wasn’t it?

Nori groaned as he removed the wooden cock before he could become sore. His arse felt strange and empty and tender. He considered flinging it at the door, but it was too nice a cock to risk damaging. He dropped it and fumbled for his boot, which he flung in its place. It made a very satisfying bang.

“Shut up you scurvy bastards, I’ll throw you overboard!” He shouted, his voice hoarse and wavering. This was answered with laughter, and Nori couldn’t help but join in. It was all good natured.

Soon, if he was _very_ lucky Dwalin would take everything well when he figured it out, and he’d get to have him, and not just in his mind.

That was a warming thought, and Nori smiled into his pillow as he rested for just a moment before beginning his cleanup.


	28. realization

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dwalin realizes a thing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dwalin has a limited understanding and thinks some problematic things, for which I apologize.

It was not until late the next day, sitting on the deck chewing the problem over in his mind, that at once the most and least obvious explanation occurred to Dwalin. If he had not been slightly drunk with punch and somewhat more drunk on pleasure at the moment, if Vulpes had not _just_ been misdirecting him by talking about fucking him, he might have realized at once when he touched Vulpes. If he had not been so preoccupied with his own guilt – the pirate had not touched him, but Dwalin still had not been faithful to his Lady – the thought would have occurred to him quicker.

A woman.

A woman had all the bits God gave them and did not become hard.

It seemed impossible. Vulpes was the cockiest little man Dwalin had ever met. He had none of the gentleness of a woman, nothing yielding about him, and yet…

It would explain his hairless face and body, the slenderness of his throat, the delicacy of his build. His voice was high, too. Men could have all of these things, of course, but was it likely all together? He did not have _breasts_ , and that did throw Dwalin for a moment until he remembered all the layers Vulpes had been wearing. The vest between his layers, it might flatten them down? Breasts were _squishy_ , and Dwalin could feel his face heating. He turned quickly to other thoughts. He had the heart of a man, certainly. He was still the same man who’d run into battle and been shot for Dwalin, but his body…

Vulpes was maybe, probably, nearly undeniably a woman.

It did not matter, anyway. He would not have Vulpes as a man, and he’d still not have him if he was a woman.

“Come to me when you figure it out.” Vulpes had whispered. What did he… she?… expect? Dwalin was to be married to his Lady, if she would still have him after he had been unfaithful again. He loved his Lady. He’d meant it when he said he would always choose Lady Norine. The fact that the pirate who’d been pursuing him – that he had _allowed_ to pursue him – was a woman did not change that.

A woman he’d kissed and groped, and that just made it _worse_ didn’t it? Dwalin buried his face in his hands, cheeks burning at the thought of squeezing Vulpes’ round arse in his hands. That was not how you treated a woman. Not at all. Nevermind that he’d been the one climbing all over Dwalin.

No. It was wrong. The law might see it differently, but it was just as wrong to be unfaithful with a woman as a man. Vulpes was a cocky little bastard, and brave, and beautiful – and it seemed likely that he was a woman. It changed nothing.

Dwalin did not order the Cú Faoil to be turned back to try to find the Bloody Gannet. Whatever Vulpes was, it did not matter. It did not change anything.

 

There was a note in his cabin. Dwalin did not know when or _how_ it had gotten there, but he found it as he was straightening things up before he went to sleep.

He held it close to the lamp and slowly puzzled it out.

“Gold grows on trees” it said, in a neat script.

Nonsense. That was what he’d told Vulpes, wasn’t it? Dwalin had played the entire exchange over in his mind enough times. The pirate had said something about what if he did not have to choose between him and his Lady, and Dwalin had answered with ‘if gold grew on trees’. It did not and it never would.

Did Vulpes really think that it would change Dwalin’s mind if he were a woman? Lady Norine was not _just_ any woman. She was _perfect_. No one could take her place in his heart. There might be a torn and aching part of his heart that yearned toward the pirate, but Dwalin was Norine’s.

Dwalin tossed the note aside and went to bed.

 

Dwalin dreamed, and it was a jumbled mess.

“Come to me when you figure it out.” Lady Norine whispered in his ear, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, but when he looked it was Vulpes offering him a pink rose. Maiden’s blush – if you love me you will find it out.

Vulpes lay on the chaise longue in Dorian Lysa’s drawing room with a book, reading it out to Dwalin with his long red braid falling all the way down to the floor, winding across the floor and finally up to wrap tight around Dwalin’s own wrist. Vulpes smiled at him and gave a brief tug that had Dwalin falling across the room to sit on the floor beside him, all wrapped up in his braid so he could not escape as Vulpes’ fingers began carding through his hair.

Lady Norine crouched before an opened cabinet of books in a ship’s cabin. Her skirts were gathered up around her knees and her hair was all up in soft powdered curls. She offered Dwalin one of the books with a smile.

“It’s Chinese.” She said, “I can’t read it, but it’s beautiful.”

“Nori reads everything but Chinese.” Ori agreed, and Dwalin was back in the drawing room when he looked at him.

“No, I can’t read Arabic either.” Vulpes disagreed from a decadent sprawl across the furniture, displaying himself for Dwalin’s eyes as he sewed silk roses.

“My mother taught me how.” Lady Norine said, handing Dwalin a beautifully crafted red silk rose, which he spat upon and flung into the sea.

He went to a dance with the gentry of Sarnay, but Vulpes was there too. He was dancing with the ladies and whispering things in their ears that made them giggle and blush.

“You can’t jig in a fancy dress.” He informed Dwalin on his way past with a wink. Dwalin turned away, unable to watch him dance with with anyone else without the sourness of jealousy in the back of his throat, and he was on the familiar deck of the Bloody Gannet. Lady Norine had spread a blanket out, and there were picnic hampers.

“Join us, my wolfhound.” She offered, holding her pretty lace-gloved hand out to him. Dwalin knelt by her side and brought her hand to his lips, pressing them reverently against the backs of her fingers.

“Kiss, kiss, kiss.” the crew began chanting, and Lady Norine laughed as she pulled Dwalin to his feet and fled away with him to a labyrinth, but he lost her in the turns.

“You can’t go wrong.” Her voice laughed, and he could not tell from where, “There’s only one choice.”

Vulpes swung out of a carriage to shoot a rabid dog without the tiniest instant of hesitation, face set and hard while the smoke wafted through his red hair. The scent of coconuts and gunsmoke and roses as he pressed his hand to his right side where he’d been shot, his gray silk shirt gleaming nearly violet in the light and his turn-off pistol the exact match of the one Lady Norine pressed into Dwalin’s hands in the gunsmoke of battle. She screamed as she strode across the deck of the Cú Faoil, firing again and again to free Dwalin and his crew from the Spanish who would have hung them.

She stumbled back, sinking down in a pile of lacy skirts. She was barely visible through the gunsmoke, still firing and reloading with blood streaming down her right side, staining the gray-violet bodice of her dress as the crew of the Bloody Gannet ran to carry her away.

Dwalin woke with a shout, tangled up in his blankets and fighting to reach her with Bofur’s shout of “Nori” echoing in his ears.

Dwalin tore his way free of the blankets and stumbled his way to the pitcher of water, splashing some on his face to wake himself up. He toweled it off roughly and drank a cup too for good measure. His hands were still shaking as he put the cup back in its place.

Lady Norine, shot and bleeding, it was too horrible to contemplate. Thank God it wasn’t real, it hadn’t happened.

…though when she was ill she _had_ seemed as though she were injured in the same place Vulpes had been shot, and the dress when she’d shot the rabid dog had been of the same silk as Vulpes’ shirt…

No. Impossible. Dwalin was remembering the silks more similar than they had been, and it was mere coincidence that their injuries were similarly placed. The very idea was utterly ridiculous. Dwalin dismissed it entirely. He should not be paying any attention to a strange dream brought on by thinking too much about Lady Norine and Vulpes before going to bed. Vulpes might be a woman, but there was no possible way they were the same person. For one thing Vulpes was smaller than Lady Norine, shorter and more slender.

Lady Norine with her pretty high heeled boots, and her hair all done up tall on the top of her head, and the wide bulk of her skirts. Strip all those away and… Dwalin’s face heated at the thought, but he pressed on. She had seemed smaller when she was injured in bed, with none of her usual adornments. As small as Vulpes? Maybe. She was not _so_ much bigger than him.

No. Impossible. Vulpes’ hair was bright read and Norine’s was… powdered. All the time. Most ladies only powdered for special occasions, but Lady Norine was always perfectly put together. Dwalin was engaged to be married to her and he had no idea what color her hair was. It couldn’t be red, could it?

Dori’s hair was all gone to silver, so Dwalin could not guess from his. Ori’s was a light brownish color… but it _did_ have reds in it. And wasn’t red one of the hair colors that tended to go gray young?

Vulpes had said his patron was a kinsman, impoverished but still enjoying the finer things in life, and didn’t that describe Dori perfectly? Dori and a thousand other men, it meant nothing!

Dwalin paced across his little cabin, running his hands through his hair. So he could not tell from hair color? Fine. Vulpes’ eyes were… never the same twice, reflecting everything around him behind a smear of dark paint. Norine’s eyes did the same thing, filled with so many colors Dwalin could become lost in them.

Their _voices_ were different, but who couldn’t change a voice?

They both of them loved reading and read in almost every language that was _written_. And there were the silk roses, but that _must_ not be a rare skill. Vulpes had probably stolen it from somewhere to mock Dwalin with. It didn’t mean anything.

And Lady Norine was never lost when Dwalin talked about ships, knew all the smallest details of ships and sailing, but that did not mean anything. She’d been raised partially on Sarnay, playing in the sailing vessels.

…and so had Dori, but _he_ only knew the most basic details. But that didn’t mean anything. Lady Norine was just more interested in ships, was all. She had been abroad.

Oh, she had been abroad and was often away from Sarnay and never spoke of her past. No one knew where she had gone, what she had done. No one knew where she went when she was not on the island.

No. No it _could not be_ , It was just a coincidence. It was all just coincidence. His Lady was perfect, she was everything a Lady was meant to be, and more. She could not possibly be a pirate, she looked nothing like Vulpes. Lady Norine _did_ have spots all over, but she could not possibly have as many as Vulpes, he was _covered_. Could powder even cover so many?

Weren’t redheads famous for getting spots in the sun?

No, it could not be. Vulpes’ hands were tough and calloused from working aboard ship and delicate Lady Norine… always wore lace gloves to cover her hands, though most ladies did not. She fired a gun to kill without hesitation and with perfect aim, though he’d never known her to go on a hunt, and claimed to never be unarmed.

That did not necessarily mean that… it didn’t have to mean…

How many coincidences did Dwalin need?

Vulpes had gotten shot, and Lady Norine had gotten injured in the same place. Vulpes’ patron had called for a good surgeon, and Oin had come to see to Lady Norine. What of Vulpes’ crew? Where could they possibly have been kept hidden? True Sarnay was full of caves and coves and…

The cove behind the Lysa estate, marked as ‘unsafe’ when Lady Norine was visiting. With her slender build and shallow draft the Bloody Gannet probably _could_ make it in there.

“Oh God.” Dwalin groaned, hand across his mouth.

It could not be. It could not be. His Lady was perfect. She was everything perfect in a lady, and how many times had she told him that she was not ladylike, that she was a terrible lady? He’d always assured her that she _was_ , hadn’t he? He’d never listened.

He should have listened to her instead of interrupting when she’d been injured, when she was trying to tell him something he should know about her. What would he have heard, if he’d just _listened_? She’d given him a maiden’s blush rose to urge him to find out her secret. She had asked him for a long engagement because he did not know her well enough. ‘May it be soon’ she said when he mourned leaving her, and ‘I’ll be close to you’. And Vulpes was a woman, and there was a note lying on Dwalin’s floor claiming that gold grew on trees. That Dwalin did not have to choose between them.

If it were true – _oh God it could not be_ – if it were true, then Dwalin had kissed Vulpes’ boots. He had knelt and declared himself Vulpes’ dog, begging his hand in marriage. He had called his sweet _Lady_ a slippery bastard, and an underfed runt and an ill-favored scavenger and sent flags telling _her_ to fuck herself with a fistful of nails. He had kissed and groped his perfect untouchable _Lady_ , and _she_ had pushed him back against a cannon and sucked him off.

No. No. No.

It could not be.

.

The Captain of the Cú Faoil shouted in his sleep, and then the sounds of his pacing his cabin could be heard.

Soon he left his cabin, pacing the whole length of the ship back and forth in the dark of the night.

“Harris.” he said, finally approaching the first mate who had not disturbed him in his thoughts, “What does ‘titian’ mean?”

“Red haired, sir.” Harris answered, “from the artist Titian, who painted…” but he trailed off as the Captain whispered ‘oh God’ and resumed his pacing. If he thought it was a strange thought to have kept his Captain up at night, he did not say anything.

Dwalin paced the ship again, measured steps around and around the perimeter. The horizon was hazy with false-dawn when he approached the first mate again.

“Harris… did you keep the note from the hanged ship?” he asked.

“Of course, Captain.” Harris answered. He kept all the records.

“Let’s see it, then.” the Captain answered, and if Harris thought it was a strange request for the Captain to ask to see something he already knew the contents of and would barely be able to read, he did not say.

They went together to the ships books, and Harris quickly located the note. The Captain’s breath caught as he looked at it, his fingers tracing the shape of the stylized signature.

“Oh God, the atlas.” he groaned, shoving it away from himself and turning to look out toward the horizon.

“Sir?” Harris asked, when he was done putting it away.

“Find me the Bloody Gannet.” Dwalin ordered.


	29. Explanations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So much talking this chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the Brief Misgendering tag gets to play again today. And Dwalin is still confused.
> 
> Please tell me if this needs more specific warnings.

They found the Bloody Gannet easier and faster than Dwalin could have hoped, but still more than long enough for Dwalin to argue himself back and forth a thousand times. He was angry sometimes, in brief flashes, as he imagined how Vulpes had been laughing at Dwalin agonizing over the infidelity he'd drawn him into. He despaired sometimes, when everything he loved seemed false and broken, but luckily that came in flashes as brief as the anger. Mostly he was just _confused_.

Questioning of the crew of the Cú Faoil revealed that some of their friends aboard the Bloody Gannet had mentioned smuggling a shipload of molasses to the American colonies as the job they were headed to next. Harris and Dwalin discussed their most likely destinations, and headed them off.

Dwalin said nothing, but his tension must have translated to the crew. They were quiet as the Gannet allowed them to approach. Even weighed down so heavy the small ship could have given them a hard chase. Dwalin had not raised the green and white to invite them in, instead requesting a word with Vulpes. The pirate was wearing his tricorn hat with the ostrich plume in it, and for the first time did not have dark paint across his eyes.

Beautiful tiny man... woman?... with that cocky sneer of a smile on his face. Looking at him now Dwalin could _see_ an echo of Norine in his nose, the shape of his cheekbones, but otherwise he was utterly different. Why would Dwalin have ever thought to look?

“I need a word with you.” Dwalin said, when their boats were drawn up to each other. Vulpes' crew had picked up the mood from Dwalin's, and were quiet. Watching.

“Go on.” Vulpes grinned, regally waving him to continue.

“In private.” Dwalin specified.

“There's nothing you can say to me you couldn't say in front of my crew.” Vulpes argued, light and offhand.

“How sure of that are you?” Dwalin asked, leaning in closer over the rails of their ships. He did not want to bring this all out in front of anyone else. Surely Vulpes would want to keep it private?

“Completely.” the small man answered, sea-gray and gold eyes not breaking contact with Dwalin's. Either he was far too confident that Dwalin hadn't figured anything out, or his crew were far more loyal than Dwalin had dreamed pirates could be.

Or Dwalin was wrong.

“ _I_ would prefer privacy.” Dwalin answered. Right or wrong, and though things tended to go badly when he was alone with Vulpes, he didn't want this to be witnessed.

Vulpes weighed him for a long moment, very still, before he swallowed and nodded briefly.

“Unarmed.” He specified, “And alone. Aboard my ship.”

Dwalin immediately began disarming himself, just a pistol and the few knives he normally carried.

“Captain?” Harris asked as he accepted Dwalin's weapons. His loyal first mate had asked no questions, obediently finding the Bloody Gannet for him, but he did not understand what was going on. Why there was tension now between them and the pirates who had been such friends to them last time they met. All he knew was that Dwalin seemed to be putting himself in danger, and he did not like it.

“I have to talk to him.” Dwalin answered. “I'll be safe among them.” he glanced toward the pirate captain as he said it, searching for a little reassurance himself.

“That depends entirely upon _you_.” Vulpes answered mildly. “We will defend ourselves if we have to.” His attention was mostly caught by his quartermaster, Bifur's hands moving quickly in his gestured language. Vulpes nodded to Bifur and then stepped back from the rail, waving Dwalin in.

He said nothing as Dwalin jumped across to the Bloody Gannet, turning silently to lead the way to his cabin. The crew were all silent, turning to keep an eye on him as he walked. It was more than enough to raise the hairs on the back of his neck, and he instead focused on Vulpes' back, the long line of his braid sweeping down to the round curve of his...

Dwalin tore his eyes away, focusing instead intently on Vulpes' hat. Not his, _her_ arse, and he was not the kind of man who looked at women that way. Not even if they dressed and looked and acted and _seemed_ exactly like men. It wasn't right.

Taiwo and Bifur bracketed the door to Vulpes' cabin, staring Dwalin down as he followed Vulpes into the cabin. A silent threat. Dwalin closed the door behind him. Vulpes' cabin was smaller than Dwalin's, with a comfortable looking bunk and a writing desk and a few trunks, and shelves and shelves of books everywhere. A floating library he must have stolen from all over the world. There were a few beats of silence before Vulpes turned to look at him.

“Well. You have your privacy.” He said, clearly waiting for Dwalin to say his piece. Any words Dwalin had tried and rejected and tried again over the last days fled his mind, looking down at the pirate.

“Tell me I'm wrong.” he begged. “Tell me you're her brother, or her... her cousin, or...”

Vulpes reached into the neck of his shirts, fishing around for a thin gold chain. He drew a small gold and emerald locket out, the ends of the chains decorated with diving birds.

“Or that Lady Norine and I are the same.” Vulpes said, “Meum Cor Tenes. I promised this would never leave me. That I'd be close to you.” He was talking fast, the locket cradled in his palm as he took a step forward. His eyes picked up the gold and the green of the emeralds, just the way _hers_ had. “You don't have to choose! You can have me and you can have your Lady and...”

Lies. Everything he loved was a lie and _why?_

“No!” Dwalin growled, maybe louder and sharper than he'd intended, fists clenching as he took a step forward. Vulpes' reaction was instant, two quick steps back until he was pressed tight against his wardrobe, as far away from Dwalin as he could get in the tiny cabin.

“If I so much as _shout_ my crew will tear you to shreds.” He snarled. If his mouth was all sneer still, his eyes were anything but. They were wide all the way around, and there was the tiniest tremble in the hand that was still holding the locket.

Fear. Of _Dwalin_. Pirate, lover and liar and Lady. Dwalin did not understand, not at all, but Vulpes was terrified and he... _she_ should never have to be afraid of him. He could not _think_ about that locket and everything it meant, his heart cracking down the center, but Vulpes should not have to be afraid of him. Dwalin took a step back, consciously unclenching his fists and taking a deep breath. Too fast and too hot his anger, always. The way Vulpes had greeted him, tried to get him to talk in front of the crew, insisted he be unarmed and alone on the Gannet, 'we'll defend ourselves' – the pirate had been afraid of him from the start, and yet here Dwalin was in Vulpes' private sanctuary. Dwalin had been let in anyway. Even afraid, Vulpes was willing to talk to him.

“I'm not going to hurt you.” Dwalin said, taking a care to keep his voice low and soothing.

“Damn right.” Vulpes answered, sharp and hard, breath trembling slightly on a deep breath, eyes trained on Dwalin.

“I don't understand.” Dwalin said, shaking his head, his voice sounded half-broken even to his own ears, “But I would not _ever_ hurt a woman.”

“Understand _this_.” Vulpes said, dropping the pendant to hang on its chain, “ _I_ am not a woman. Not in this cabin, not on my ship, not under this name. I am a _man_. Ask my crew how many men I've killed for that mistake.” he snarled.

“But...” Dwalin started, his eyes catching on the emerald locket. So much hope and so much love he'd put into choosing it, and now everything he loved was broken. “So Lady Norine is the lie?” he asked. It didn't make sense, any of it.

“No.” Vulpes protested, tossing his hat aside to run his hands across his head, smoothing his already perfectly smooth hair. “I'm not a _lie_ , I just _am_. I'm Captain Vulpes of the Bloody Gannet and I'm a man. But sometimes I go to Sarnay to be Lady Norine and I'm a woman. I haven't lied to you. I am who I am when I am.” his eyes were begging Dwalin, but it didn't make any sense, any of it. A person was born either a man or a woman, weren't they? Dwalin shook his head.

Vulpes huffed, “Sit.” he ordered, waving Dwalin toward the bunk, and Dwalin obeyed. That was something that was the same too, wasn't it? Vulpes or Lady Norine asked him to do something and Dwalin did it without thinking. He looked up at Vulpes, his big hands squeezed between his knees to keep them still. If it could all be explained... if Dwalin's heart could stop bleeding...

Vulpes' eyes smiled slightly. He began to reach out as if he were going to stroke the side of Dwalin's face, but drew back before he did.

“You have been to Port Royal.” Vulpes said, and Dwalin nodded. It was a common port for Privateers and Pirates to visit, dangerous as it could get.

“So you know there are women plying the docks there who...” Vulpes pondered, “Who's mothers probably thought they had sons?” He asked.

Dwalin could feel the heat in his face as he nodded.

“And they _are_ women, if you talk to them.” Vulpes said, firmly. “Most of them. They'll tell you. They are women, and they left to find a place they _could_ be, whatever the cost.”

Dwalin nodded again. He _hadn't_ asked, or ever had much to do with anyone who plied the docks in any of the rougher ports, man or woman or... woman, if Vulpes were to be believed.

“And India has the _hijra_.” Vulpes said, “And _they_ will tell you they are neither men nor women. Same with the Samoan _fa'afafine_. They are not men or women they just are _themselves_ , and no one expects them to be anything else. Their cultures make space for another category of people. It is only in the West that we are so rigid with the _two_.” Vulpes' shoulders were hunched up.

“And we take it everywhere we go.” He added quietly, before shaking it off.

“And Ori studies ancient writings.” Vulpes continued, the sudden reminder of a life Dwalin only knew Lady Norine in jarring, that same pride in the family's boy genius in such a different place, “And he collects references for me – most scholars erase them in translation. There are entire languages constructed around the fact that there are not just men and women. There are _many_ references to people who are neither men nor women, to men who take the role of women, and women who take the role of men. Who _are_ men in every way.”

Dwalin had not known these things, any of them. He was no scholar.

“And you?” Dwalin asked.

“And me.” Vulpes said, crossing his arms and leaning back against his wardrobe. “And I _am_ a man when I'm a man. I'm not a woman in a disguise.”

The way Vulpes spoke it _should_ make sense, but Dwalin's mind still did not want to wrap around it. Maybe if he _were_ a scholar, but he'd never had the mind for these things – riddles and paradox.

“How?” Dwalin asked, “How did _you_... happen?”

“Parents fucked each other, how do you think?” Vulpes snapped back. Dwalin flinched from the sharpness of his tone, and the pirate softened.

“You're _listening_.” he said, briefly running a fond fingertip around the emerald locket at his breast, “I... could tell you. Not many people know.” He stepped quickly past Dwalin to the door and knocked on it – two slow knocks followed by three quick, to be answered by two from the outside.

“Letting Bifur know you're... calm.” Vulpes said, staying close to the door and still watching Dwalin cautiously, still afraid. “They'll make friendly with your crew, share the crate of mangoes we picked up most like, but they're still on alert.”

“I don't want to hurt you.” Dwalin answered quietly, his shoulders hunching in under Vulpes' suspicion, “I don't understand, but you're still the man who saved my life and my crew.” He shuddered under the thought of his sweet Lady Norine shot for him, because that _was_ what happened. They were the same person, as impossible as that was.

“You wouldn't be here still if it seemed like you did.” Vulpes answered quietly.

Outside the cabin there were happy shouts about the mangoes, and maybe Vulpes saw Dwalin's sudden longing – it had been a while since he'd had a mango. He quickly opened the cabin door, shouted something, and caught a tossed mango. Dwalin had gotten enough of a look to see that the crews were both still on their own ships, but that mangoes were being tossed across to the Cú Faoil and most of the tension seemed to be relaxing out there.

Not so much in here, yet. Dwalin nodded his thanks as Vulpes passed him the mango and closed the door again.

“I ran wild while my mother was alive.” Vulpes launched into the story without preamble, leaning against the door and watching Dwalin begin to knead the mango to turn the insides into juice. “She was near as wild as me, same red hair, and she loved to encourage me. Most of the time I was a perfect tiny lady at her side, with my ribbons and pretty dresses. But sometimes I _couldn't_ , and I'd steal a shirt and trousers off some unlucky laundry line and go play with the boys.”

Vulpes smiled a bit at that, “My name, Nori – doesn't sound particularly boy or girl, does it? I might have been a bit small and pretty for a boy, with my long hair, but any boys who tried to bully me learned that I was a vicious fighter. I had friends who never knew me for anything else. I'd play swordfights and climb the cliffs of Sarnay for gulls eggs and pester the sailors and dock hands. On a good day, a few of us could find someone who'd show us the basics of sailing.”

“I knew I had to be careful, of course, but I never felt like I wasn't a boy when I was a boy. I sailed all the way to France from Sarnay on one of the little smuggling boats, one time, an overnight trip. My French was already very good, but I came back knowing a lot more curses! They said I was a natural with the sails. I _did_ get in trouble for that one, though. Mostly my mother just laughed at my adventures, but not that one. The opportunity had come up suddenly and I hadn't sent a message to let them know I hadn't fallen off a cliff or drowned somewhere. Uncle Dori threatened to tan my hide for it – not that he would have – but even if he _had_ it couldn't possibly have hurt worse than seeing my mother all red-eyed and haggard from lack of sleep and weeping, afraid I'd died.”

Vulpes smiled that same happy and sad smile Norine had worn talking about her mother. The same mother. “I had a terribly happy childhood, and then she died and it was over. I was expected to be the perfect little lady at every moment without rest until I thought I would strangle to death. I was not even allowed my academic studies, as they were not 'womanly'. I was never good enough, no matter how hard I tried.”

“My _father_...” Vulpes' voice was bitter on the word. Dwalin had never heard a word about Lady Norine's father, good or bad, other than that they were estranged. “He waited through the proper full year's mourning before he remarried. I was to be married too – auctioned off like a brood mare to the highest bidder. I had no say in the matter.”

Dwalin's heart clenched at the thought of his sweet Norine treated so. He ached to go to her, protect her, as though time were just another sea he could sail across for her.

“I would rather have _died_.” Vulpes said, words spat out hard, “I _would_ have died, trying to live that way. Luckily, I have never been anything but resourceful, and did not have to die to escape. I got away from him and contacted a girlhood friend, a few years older. She and her husband were more than happy to be sure I was ruined and was useless to my father. I sent him a letter to that effect. Then I contacted a boyhood friend, and he set me up as a sailor on one of his family's merchant vessels. I did not want to be a woman in any way, at that time. I sent Uncle Dori a letter letting _him_ know where I had gone, so he would not worry, and sailed for India.”

“There are _worse_ ships.” Vulpes said, “But it was wretched. The Captain was cruel, and the officers petty. I was clever enough to hide how clever I am, and to avoid the worst of it. We'd loaded our goods and were headed home to England when we were captured by pirates. The choice of joining them or dying was an easy one.”

“Life with the pirates was better. I didn't have to hide my mind or my learning. I was voted an officer right away. We sailed all the way around the world, and by the time we made it back I was Captain of my own ship.”

“I took the name 'Vulpes'.” the pirate's eyes were bright now, leaning forward, _proud_ of this part of the story. “It's not _just_ for my red hair. Lysa, it means 'fox' in Russian. Call myself by my mother's family, and no one knows.” Cleverly playing with words and languages, the way Dwalin would never be able to. He'd admired it in Lady Norine.

“I _had_ been discovered, on the way around the world.” Vulpes sobered again, “It couldn't be kept secret forever. My knives had to make a _very_ convincing argument that I was in fact a man and a pirate. Luckily I had Bifur. He'd figured it out ages before and never told anyone, not even Bofur. Not even me. I'd learned to speak with him – hand signs. He was my best friend and he stood by me, and Bofur with him. Without them I...” Vulpes looked down at his hands, flexing them. Shook his head. Dwalin could imagine well enough what might have happened, and his hands clenched. Another sea of time he could not sail over. He'd not been there, could not protect Vulpes.

“He's like a father to me, what a father _should_ be. Bifur was the first to... to know about me and believe me that I was a man anyway. No one else had ever done that. It was a dangerous few months, but we stuck like glue and gathered loyal sailors up around us. Those who knew and didn't care. By the time we made it back I was Captain of the best crew from all around the world. We captured the Racing Bird and renamed her the Bloody Gannet, junk-rigged her, and plied the Caribbean.”

“And took to stealing my prizes.” Dwalin added, setting aside his finished mango. He'd hardly noticed himself eat it, caught up in the tale.

“You took it personal when we hunted the same prize and I was faster.” Vulpes corrected, his bright eyes laughing and that familiar cocky sneer on his mouth. Dwalin could have tried to argue it, but against Vulpes what chance did he have? And it was not the important thing right now.

“And then, how did Lady Norine?” Dwalin asked, “You followed me to Sarnay to... to _laugh_ at me?” it cut against his breaking heart.

“It had _nothing_ to do with you.” the pirate answered. “I had no idea Sarnay was your base. I went to see Uncle Dori, it had been years since I went to sea, and it's not easy to get a letter send that far even if you're not a pirate. I'd been a man every moment without rest for years, and I'd thought I'd never grow tired of it... but... I _missed_ dresses, and tea, and being pretty and delicate. I wanted to be a lady again, for a little while, and Uncle Dori had always been kind to me. He welcomed me in and gave me everything I wanted.” The voice speaking was softening, growing gentle and mellow so Dwalin could practically _see_ his Lady when he closed his eyes. It was one thing to know, to believe, to see the proof of the locket – and another to hear his Lady's voice coming from Vulpes' mouth.

“I told Uncle Dori I would _not_ be courted. I had no intention of it.” Lady Norine said, “And I did not know you were even on the island until I was told you would be joining us for supper. I was terrified you would recognize me. I had knives hidden in my stays and Jenny helped me strap a loaded pistol to my leg, where I could reach it through my skirts.”

“But when I met you, you were....” Lady Norine sighed softly, a fond sound, “You were the sweetest man I ever met. I liked the way you liked me. I wanted that. I wanted _you._ I gave you my hair ribbons, you carry them in your pocket watch. I stole _this_.”

Dwalin opened his eyes, almost shocked to see Vulpes when he'd been listening to his Lady Norine. He was being shown a thin strip of leather wrapped around a narrow wrist.

“The strap from your hair. It doesn't leave me.” Vulpes smiled, and it was Lady Norine's gently curved lips. “I let you catch up to me, as a pirate. I thought for certain you'd recognize me... but you didn't. And you _wanted_ me.” the voice was back to Vulpes' sharpness, that sneer of a smile on his lips.

“You wouldn't steal a kiss from a lady who was inviting you as boldly as propriety would allow – more even – but you'd let a pirate kiss you. You'd moan and whine so perfect for me, finally get your big hands all over me.”

“It was never supposed to go so far.” the Vulpes' shoulders were drawing in now, leaning against the door with his arms wrapping around his slender body, holding himself together, “I would have told you, but then I was injured and alone and I was afraid. I tried to hint but you did not realize... and I _should_ have told you but I didn't want to lose you. No one had _ever_ wanted both sides of me before. Never.”

The brightest-reflecting eyes were begging Dwalin now, gold and green on the gray-blue of the sea with flecks as brilliant as the sun shining on it, “I'm the pirate Vulpes and I'm a man, and I'm Lady Norine and I'm a woman, but I'm always just _Nori_. You love her and you want him... could you ever do the opposite? Could you want her and love him?”

“...could you ever love all of _me?”_ Vulpes or Norine... Nori's voice was terribly quiet on that, one hand clenched tight around the emerald locket. Nori looked _young_ , horribly young and vulnerable and _afraid..._ and there was no sea of time keeping Dwalin away this time. This was something he could fix. He did not fully understand – maybe he never would – and it hurt that he'd been lied to, but he could begin to see the shape of _why_ , and it had not been malicious. There were still questions that had to be asked that Dwalin did not even had the words to ask yet, more explanations that would be needed – sometime. Right at this moment Dwalin was looking at his Lady, at the man who'd saved his life, at _Nori_ , and Nori was in pain.

Dwalin stood slowly, movements as gentle and nonthreatening as he could make them. He rested one oversized hand on Nori's slender tense shoulder, and when Nori relaxed into that, pulled the beautiful little pirate into his arms to hold tight. He rubbed his cheek gently against silky red hair that smelled of coconuts and would always be Vulpes to him – but now he did not need to feel guilt for liking so much. He caught Nori's delicate wrist and brought it to his lips, gently kissing soft skin and the leather strap the pirate had stolen from him.

“I can _try_.” he whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *posts chapter and flees*
> 
> Also there is art, because I am the most spoiled ever!  
> http://tagathsketch.tumblr.com/post/93432931983/lady-norine-and-vulpes-the-two-alter-ego-of-nori  
> http://asparklethatisblue.tumblr.com/post/93433995068/dwalins-engagement-gift-for-nori-from  
> http://asparklethatisblue.tumblr.com/post/93519395118/sea-and-sky-scar-smooching-time


	30. modern wonders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is smut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for internalized homophobia.

The Bloody Gannet was already in the little cove when the Cú Faoil made it there. It was a very hidden beach on a very small island, one of the pirate's hideouts. That they had given Dwalin's navigator explicit instructions on how to reach it safely spoke to the trust they were being given.

That _Dwalin_ in particular was being given.

There had not been all that much time to talk, the Gannet had been on a schedule to make the delivery of smuggled molasses, but they had given directions for a time and place to meet again. The Cú Faoil had navigated here as instructed, and it seemed the celebration was already underway on the island. There was a fire and music already. Dwalin's crew were more than happy to anchor the ship and take the boats over to the shore to join in.

It seemed Nakili and Mina had hunted up fresh meat to roast over the fire, and both the Bloody Gannet and the Cú Faoil had brought a lot of food and drink with them. Dwalin double-checked that the boats were secure among those of the pirates before he turned to join the celebration.

Nori was watching him, leaning on a tree sipping and on a coconut with his red braid flowing over his shoulder and the emerald locket gleaming around his neck. Dwalin could not help returning his smile, heat under his collar at the way the pirates gaze was caressing across him.

“What do I do?” Dwalin had asked before they parted, Nori still in his arms, “What do you need from me?” Dwalin did not understand, not right then when everything was all fresh and jumbled and probably still not fully now when he'd had time to ponder things over on his own, but he _could_ try to do as he was told.

“Treat me as I am.” Nori had answered seriously, “Treat me as a man, when I am. Treat me as your Lady when I am her.”

Dwalin wondered if he could, when he was sailing far away and was trying to reconcile both of his loves into the same person – but here looking at Nori, at Vulpes grinning at him, he could start to understand it. He was still the cockiest little man Dwalin had ever met. He was Vulpes and he was Nori, and he might be the same person as Lady Norine, but not right now. The idea of trying to treat Vulpes as a Lady was somewhat ridiculous. Treating Lady Norine as a pirate was just... unthinkable.

Vulpes was Nori and he was licking his lips slightly as he eyed Dwalin. Dwalin went ahead and eyed him right back. Little whip of a man, sleek and sharp and unpredictable. Small and strong and beautiful. Dwalin wanted him, and now he was _allowed_ to want him.

Nori's grin widened at Dwalin's frank appreciation, nearly laughing as he flipped his braid over his shoulder.

“Let's get you something to drink.” He suggested, turning toward the fire.

“No kiss?” Dwalin was bold enough to ask, though quietly. Nori could have easily ignored it if he liked. He turned back with his gray-green eyes smiling, teeth flashing. He took one last long drink from his coconut and tossed it aside empty, all heavy-lidded hunger as he strode up to Dwalin in that particularly rolling gait of someone who was fresh ashore after a long time at sea.

Dwalin sat himself on the side of a beached boat and let Nori come to him. The pirate paused for a moment right in front of him, smiling, before he wrapped on hand around the back of Dwalin's neck and climbed up him. He straddled Dwalin with his knees on the edge of the boat. Dwalin's arms came around him automatically, supporting him with one hand full of beautiful round arse and the other stroking Vulpes' back. He turned his face up to Nori, begging a kiss with his own hunger warm in his stomach.

They'd kissed briefly when Nori was done explaining about himself, before they had to part ways again. It had been a soft thing, gentle, with the pirate still uncertain. It had been more Dwalin attempting to offer him comfort than anything passionate.

Nori looked almost shy for a moment, his smile soft and his cheeks flushed, before he claimed Dwalin's mouth. Vulpes' kiss was sharp teeth and all-consuming fire, as they'd always been. Dwalin whimpered under the assault as he held the smaller man close and searched for more.

Far too soon Nori pulled away, the edges of his bright eyes crinkling up in a smile as Dwalin leaned forward to chase his mouth.

“Patience. We have all night.” he breathed, running a fingertip across Dwalin's insufficiently bitten bottom lip. Dwalin caught the slender finger between his lips, pulled it into his mouth to gently suck on it, tracing the shape of it with his tongue.

Vulpes' breath caught, eyes widening as the hand on the back of Dwalin's neck clenched. Blunt nails dug into Dwalin's skin and he groaned.

“Greedy.” Nori purred, fucking Dwalin's mouth with his finger for just two strokes before he pulled his finger out and kissed Dwalin again. Softer this time, sucking on his lips and just the gentlest nibbling edges of his teeth. A tease. The bare warmth of a fire when Dwalin wanted to _burn_.

“I _will_ have you.” Nori promised, drawing back again, “But first, food and drink, music and dancing. Patience.”

Dwalin held him tighter for just a moment, buried his face against the side of Nori's neck and breathed the scent of him, coconut and bonfire smoke and warm skin. He was so perfect in Dwalin's arms, small and strong and relaxing into softness in his embrace.

Nori's cheeks were flushed again when Dwalin released him.

“Food.” he suggested, glancing back with a smile at Dwalin as he walked back to the fire and the celebrating crews of both their ships. If anyone had noticed the two of them kissing, they'd had the good manners not to start cheering at least.

Dwalin got his violin out of the boat he'd come in, taking his time to get his body back under his own control. He did not need anyone seeing how hard he'd gotten so quickly.

The food was excellent, as it always was. Dwalin drank a few coconuts with Nori sitting close and comfortable in his lap. His hands did not want to keep to themselves, and he enjoyed the feel of Vulpes' body as he stroked the lean pirate's back, played with his braid, ran the back of his knuckle against his smooth cheek. Nori smiled at him, almost shy but with the heat of promises behind his eyes.

There was music, and Dwalin joined in with his violin while Nori danced. He _could_ have been jealous at the pirate dancing with others, if it had not been so obvious that Nori was dancing for _him_. He looked back to Dwalin often, kept himself in sight. Dwalin's own eyes never left him. He played his violin along with musical members of both crews, but it was Nori he was playing to. The small man laughed and jumped and spun, quick and graceful and beautiful, and Dwalin was _his_.

As night fell – and a little before it even - people began to disappear together out into the island. Nori assured Dwalin it was perfectly safe, there was nothing waiting on the island to hurt them. Dwalin did his very best not to notice who went with whom.

He could only hope the crews would extend the same courtesy to him when Nori took him by the hand and led him back to the boats. The Bloody Gannet had a mismatched variety of boats, and Nori chose the smallest.

They kissed in it for a little while. Dwalin was pushed back further and further, until he was nearly lying on the floor with Nori on top of him. He groaned into the sharpness of the pirate's teeth, the hard thrust of his tongue, ran his big hands all over every part of Nori he could reach. He squeezed that perfect round arse in both hands, grinding his hard cockerel up against the smaller man's body. It had been a very long time since he'd climaxed from rubbing bodies together fully dressed, but he just might manage it with Nori.

“I want you.” Nori's voice was rough with hunger and he nipped at Dwalin's tender lip to make him moan again, “I want to you in my cabin, on my bed.”

“Mmm.” Dwalin agreed, trusting up against Nori again.

“This is _not_ my cabin.” Nori protested with a laugh in his voice, and Dwalin only made a small sound of protest as he let the smaller man escape his arms. He obediently took a set of oars and began rowing toward the Bloody Gannet as soon as Nori had untied them and pushed the boat into the water. It took a little wrangling to get the boat up on the Bloody Gannet, but Nori was a pirate. He was _very_ good at quickly boarding a ship – even his own. He got up on deck and lowered the ropes to winch the boat up.

He tackled Dwalin as soon as they were both on deck, and Dwalin laughed as he picked the small man right up. Nori was laughing too against Dwalin's lips as Dwalin carried him into his cabin and collapsed on the bunk with Nori on top of him. The lamp that had been left lit on the ship's stern gave enough light through the window for them to be able to see, everything deep blues and faint gold.

Nori's clever fingers made quick work of Dwalin's shirt, and his hands explored Dwalin's overheating skin. Dwalin moaned and arched up against the pirate pinning him as his chest hair was tugged on, as he was teased and bitten and kissed. This time when his hands tried to find their way under Nori's clothes, he was allowed it. He stroked soft warm skin, the raised texture of tattoos and a few scars beside the bullet wound he'd taken for Dwalin.

“God, Nori.” Dwalin gasped, his hand worked down between them and the pirate thrusting into the grip of it through his trousers, “I want you.”

Nori growled his pleasure, lips on Dwalin's throat, and Dwalin's tongue did not know how to be silent when things were already going so well.

“You're cruel. So cruel to make me want you to fuck me when you can't...” he moaned, tipping his head back to give better access.

“You'd want that?” Nori purred, teeth against the tender skin of his throat, “You'd want me to fill you and fuck you, be the first to have you?”

Dwalin's entire body clenched at the thought, aching fire of desire under his skin. “So much.” He whimpered. So much he never dared let himself want, that he'd decided never to have and could content himself with never having still. Hands and mouths were good and so much safer.

Nori chuckled lightly, a soft nip of teeth to Dwalin's throat, and slipped out of his arms. Dwalin reached for him, but did not catch him, and levered himself up on one elbow to see where his lover had gone. The pirate reached into a drawer and grinned like a wolf as he drew something out.

“Behold the wonders of the modern age.” He said, tossing it to Dwalin.

It took him a moment to figure it out. There were straps of soft leather, and buckles, and a lacquered wooden...

“My pretty red cock, as promised.” Nori grinned. Dwalin could feel his face flaming and was glad of the darkness to hide it as he examined it. It was not overly large – sleek and slender to match Nori – with a slight curve. It seemed it could be removed from the straps, a harness of some sort so the pirate could wear it.

So Nori could fuck him.

Dwalin's body trembled at the thought, the idea had plagued him since Nori described it to him. He wanted it. More than shameful touches alone in the dark.

“Please?” Dwalin asked, holding it out to Nori and silencing the voice in the back of his mind that cried he'd be hanged.

“I'd like nothing better.” Nori purred, accepting it back. “Let's see you bare, then.” he suggested.

Dwalin quickly began undoing what of his buttons and buckles Nori had left unopened, kicking his way free of his clothes.

“Mmm, beautiful.” Vulpes judged, long slender fingers stroking his wooden cockerel. He reached back into the drawer to remove a small bottle, which he handed over. “Oil.” He said, “You've used your fingers? Show me.”

Dwalin whimpered, face burning with embarrassment even as he obeyed. The oil was smooth and scentless on his fingers. He reached down between his legs, and he might have stopped from sheer embarrassment, if Nori had not been undressing as he watched him.

Watching him undress was something to distract himself from the fact that he was fingering his arse for his lover. Nori was methodical, carefully removing each piece of clothing in turn, Jacket, belt, shirt. Beneath he wore a sleeveless tunic beneath a stiff vest, which he left in place. There was something tattooed up his left arm, a dragon. He removed his boots and socks, his trousers and smallclothes. The light tunic under his vest fell down far enough he looked, still, like any other man.

Dwalin breathed as he worked his middle finger inside himself to the second knuckle, moaning slightly.

“Good, you're doing so well.” Nori praised him, and Dwalin's arse clenched down on his finger, cock jumping in his other hand. The pirate paused for a long moment, just watching Dwalin, before his hands went to the laces on his vest.

He breathed deep as it fell open, and the shape of his body changed. Nori shrugged out of both it and the tunic beneath at the same time, and was as bare as Dwalin.

Dwalin did not know where his eyes could go. They darted up, down, and then off to the side. Nori was... was...

Dwalin was supposed to be treating him as a man, but...

Nori was _trusting_ him with this, to be alone and see him bare. _Him_ , Dwalin reminded himself, _him_ , Nori was a _man_ no matter what he looked like undressed. The pirate's shoulders were tensing up tight as he quickly stepped into the leather straps of the harness and strapped his cockerel on.

That _... that_ Dwalin could focus on.

“Is this going to work?” Nori asked quietly, and Dwalin realized he'd stopped touching himself as he tried to make his mind accept what he saw and what he knew. “I can wear the vest.” Nori was reaching for it as he spoke.

“No.” Dwalin said, “No... I can do it.” He just had to look at _anywhere_ but at Nori's chest until he could make his mind understand. That was all. “You are a man. The man who saved my life. The man I l-love. The man I want to fuck me.” Dwalin's tongue tripped over the deadly-dangerous words, but Nori was smiling at him, so it couldn't be wrong.

“Don't stop.” Nori said, glancing down, and Dwalin immediately resumed working his finger in slow circles, feeling the tight clench of his muscles and the softness beyond. Nori poured a little oil from the bottle into his palm and slowly rubbed it on his fingers so they glistened in the pale lamplight.

“Mind if I join in?” He asked, slick fingers stroking Dwalin's hand. Dwalin's hand was trembling as he slid his finger out of himself, leaving his arse free to be touched by someone else for the first time. Dwalin did not realize his breathing was speeding up until Nori's spare hand rested on his stomach.

“Breathe.” he ordered, leaning forward to lap soothingly at the head of Dwalin's cockerel, his slicked fingers just rubbing at Dwalin's entrance, making no move to enter him. Dwalin moaned at the pleasure of it as he obediently breathed, long and deep to make himself relax.

“It'll feel good.” Nori crooned, breath warm against Dwalin's cockerel, “You have to tell me if it doesn't...”

“Yes.” Dwalin agreed, and Nori began pressing in. Dwalin's body clenched against it, a sharp whimper escaping his throat, and the pressure immediately eased.

“Shhh, shhh.” Nori soothed, back to rubbing slick circles on the tender skin, “Relax... helps if you bear down a bit, sometimes.”

Dwalin nodded again in agreement, looking down to see Nori's eyes smiling up at him as the small man gently took his cockerel head between his lips, clever tongue running around and around it as he began to press in again. Dwalin tensed automatically, but then he _breathed_ and bore down. Nori's slender finger slid in as easily as if it belonged there.

Dwalin moaned slightly at the feeling, slick and bigger than a finger ought to feel, and Nori hummed, vibrations running down his cockerel. Nori's free hand was petting Dwalin's stomach, his trembling legs, soothing him. Dwalin caught his hand to hold it tight, his own big fingers intertwined with Nori's, squeezing.

It was a strange feeling to have Nori's finger inside him, different from his own. He could not predict its motions, could not direct it. It moved smoothly in and out, working in little circles like Dwalin did with his own. It was strange but it was _good_. It was. A little spark of intensity to meet with the pleasure from Nori's too-clever mouth on his cockerel.

Dwalin did not realize Nori had added a second finger, just that there was more pressure, which he tensed against before he remembered to bear down again. Then Nori began twisting his hand back and forth, the stretch of a wider intrusion finally breaking through the pleasure of Nori's mouth.

“Oh.” Dwalin groaned. “Oooh.” Nori answered in a hum and a flick of his clever tongue back and forth across the head of Dwalin's cockerel. He squeezed Dwalin's hand and let it go to grabbed the oil again. It was cool but not _cold_ as he poured more over his fingers, fucking it into Dwalin's arse with them.

Oh god, he was being fucked. He'd finally become a sodomite and he'd be hanged and Balin would be so ashamed and...

Nori's hand caught his again, squeezing it tight, and he curled his fingers up to rub on the outstroke.

“OoohmyGod!” Dwalin gasped, head falling back and his legs spreading further, “There, _there_ , how?” his entire body was humming, warmth melting through him like golden light.

“Told you it would be good.” Vulpes preened, releasing Dwalin's cock to more fully focus on rubbing at the center of Dwalin's pleasure.

Dwalin just moaned and _felt_ , he was incapable of anything else. His body arched and squirmed against Nori's fingers, a strange pleasure but _so good_. He could get lost in it. He _did_ get lost in it, building higher and higher until Dwalin realized he was fucking himself on the pirate's fingers, legs spread open as far as they could while he begged for he did not know _what_. More, maybe, or less.

“So beautiful.” Nori was breathing, “So good, my wolfhound. Let me fuck you?”

“ _Please_.” Dwalin answered, “ _Please_ , Nori.”

First there was more oil fucking into him, a merciful cruel relief of pressure from the place of his pleasure.

“That's three fingers.” Nori said, voice hoarse and eager, “Three of my fingers inside of you. You like them?”

“Yes, _please_.” Dwalin begged, and the fingers slid out to be immediately replaced with the pirate's slender body between his legs. One of his legs was lifted to a different angle, and a slick lacquered wooden cockerel slid into him.

“So good.” Nori praised him, “Such a good boy.” Dwalin's breath escaped in near a sob as he clenched on the unrelenting wood. It was _deeper_ , slicker, harder, the pressure near unbearable as Nori found the angle that rubbed against that _place_. Dwalin was not even _hard_ but he might burst at the seams.

Dwalin wanted. He _wanted_ to finish like it was air. He wanted to scream. He wanted to grind himself on Nori's cockerel forever. He wanted to move away from the intensity of the pleasure that was never supposed to be _that_ good. He was never supposed to want this but he _did_ and he'd done it and it was wonderful and now he'd be hanged for certain.

He did not realize he was crying until Nori stopped fucking him.

“Dwalin!” his hand was gentle on the side of Dwalin's face, despite the worry in his tone as he wiped tears away, “Oh God I shouldn't have...” he began to pull back, remove himself from Dwalin.

“No!” Dwalin protested, grabbing hold of him, pulling him in close and tight, “I wasn't supposed to but don't stop I'll be hanged anyway and I _want_. I want.” he sniffled, rubbing his face against Nori's hand.

“Oh, Dwalin...” Nori's tone had gone soft, hands that had been gripping Dwalin's body hard petting him gently all over, “No one's going to hang you. You're safe here. You're safe. I have you.” as he spoke he began gently fucking Dwalin again, slower this time.

“I have you, my wolfhound.” he promised, and in that moment, with the pleasure building again as his thrusts began to find the right spot again, Dwalin could believe him. Could let himself be held in the pirates arms and be comforted, be _safe_.

Nori flashed a smile when Dwalin began urging him to harder and faster again.

It was so good. So good and so much and he could not handle it forever.

“Too much, too much, I can't!” Dwalin shook his head as he pulled Nori in closer, ground him in deeper even as it began to turn from pleasure toward pain.

“Stroke your cock for me.” Nori instructed, breathless, and Dwalin's hand obediently found his cockerel. “I want to be inside you as you spend.”

It was as though Dwalin's entire body had been poised to climax forever and just needed the grip of his hand to push him over. His cock and belly were slick with prespending, and his climax took him almost as soon as he got his hand on it.

His body bowed backward, a roar breaking out of his throat, and the pirate did not slow – fucked him through a climax that would not end. It went on and on until Dwalin was nearly sobbing again. When Vulpes eased his cock out of him Dwalin collapsed in twitches and tremors.

“Oh my wolfhound.” Nori purred, lips gentle as he kissed his shoulder, his neck, his cheek, “So beautiful, such a good boy." There was the creak of leather – the harness buckles as it was removed – and then one of Nori's hands was petting Dwalin's sweat-drenched chest, wiping the seed off his belly with a soft cloth. He was cuddled up soft and snuggly against Dwalin's side, petting him.

Dwalin managed to throw an arm across the pirate, to hold him close. He ached in strange ways, but his entire body felt as though it was glowing.

It took a criminally long time of Dwalin feeling Nori's rhythmic jiggling and increasingly rough breaths to realize the pirate was getting off by himself – and after he'd given _so much_ to Dwalin.

“Let me.” Dwalin said, pulling himself together with a monumental effort, “I can...” he'd leaned up on his elbow to see what Nori was doing and his tongue tangled around the dual options of 'suck you off' and 'shine your pearl' and he didn't know which he was meant to use.

“My mouth, I can, for you... let me _please_?” Dwalin asked. So many times he'd gotten Dwalin off and Dwalin had _never_ done anything for him. It was not right.

“Suck my cock?” Vulpes asked, fingers spreading to display the proud little bud.

“Let me suck your cock _please_.” Dwalin begged.

“As you desire.” Nori answered, rearranging his pillows and gesturing grandly toward his sex.

“Thank you.” Dwalin breathed, crawling into place to begin his task with enthusiasm. Luckily Nori was not afraid to direct him. Fingers were tangled in his hair to guide him, and moans of 'harder' or 'suck just a bit' or ' _right_ there' let him know he was pleasuring his lover the right way.

“Oooh, you're good.” Nori moaned, “I'm going to keep you down there all _night_.”

“Yes, sir.” Dwalin breathed, the satisfaction of a lover's pleasure washing over him as he took the firm little bud of Nori's cock between his lips again, flicking his tongue over it.

Nori's hand clenched at his words, nails digging into his scalp as the pirate's hips jolted.

“Mmm, I'm keeping you _forever_.” Nori chuckled breathlessly.

“Yes.” Dwalin agreed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just the epilogue left, folks!
> 
> And there is art by the wonderful Tagath!  
> http://tagathsketch.tumblr.com/post/93597986668/and-now-we-have-vulpes-still-from-thorinsmuts  
> http://tagathsketch.tumblr.com/post/93587780658/lady-norine-from-thorinsmut-latest-fic-in-more
> 
> And some delicious smut for this chapter particularly by Sparkle:  
> http://asparklethatisblue.tumblr.com/post/93882705288/buncha-smut-sketches-for-sea-and-sky-in-which  
> and also of Dwalin crying:  
> http://asparklethatisblue.tumblr.com/post/94087962443/sea-and-sky-smut-because-dwalin-crying-is-both


	31. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Family and plans for the future.

Nori was in the highest spirits Dori had ever seen when the family's pirate returned again. Both of Dori's cheeks were soundly kissed and Nori was laughing as Dori's share of the take was brought into the manor.

“It's not the richest haul this time.” Nori apologized, eyes bright, “But that's going to change. I'm heading around the world again! Bifur's been getting homesick.”

Dori did not have the time to say he'd rather have Nori _safe_ than the richest of shipments. Nor did he have time to ask about how that would work with Captain Tavish, who's emerald locket engagement was still hanging around Nori's neck. Nori was moving too quickly for that.

Nori's mood did not falter in the next few days. She teased Jenny and laughed with Ori and preened in her pretty dresses. Jenny had made her a few new ones while she was away. Luckily Nori was wearing one of her older ones when Ori brought up that someone had suggested 'nibling' for a term that could encompass both nieces and nephews and she chased him around the garden and tackled him into the lawn to nibble on him – both of them shrieking and laughing and covered in grass stains by the time Nori let Ori go. It was just the way Nori had been as a child. Whatever had Nori in such good spirits, Dori could only be glad of it.

Captain Tavish's ship, the Cú Faoil, came into Port Gorey just a few days after Nori's arrival, and he of course came to call immediately. Nori was confined with Jenny getting ready until the last possible moment, so Dori had no warning whatsoever. Dwalin was already in the garden when Nori made her appearance. Her hair was unpowdered, vivid red done up in soft curls, and Jenny had modified the sleeves of her dress to the more fashionable elbow-length, leaving visible the tail of a tattooed dragon coiling around her left forearm. That she was wearing delicate lace gloves to cover her work-rough hands would not really make up for _that_.

“Dwalin!” Nori called, sweeping past Dori toward the big privateer, “My wolfhound.” Her voice was warm on it as she went to Dwalin, and Dori's stomach was frozen somewhere near his boots. Dwalin would realize. He had to realize. If Dwalin tried to hurt her Dori had nothing but his body to defend her with and Dwalin could ruin their entire family if he told and...

“My Lady Norine.” Dwalin said, shy color in his cheeks as he bowed deeply over her hand, pressing his lips reverently to her knuckles. He was looking at her the way he always did when he straightened. As though she'd hung the sun and moon.

“You are so beautiful, this way.” He said, offering her a small bouquet of American cowslip and Peruvian lilly – you are my divinity, and loyalty. His fingers traced a bit of the dragon's tail as Nori blushed over the delicate flowers and then tucked her hand through his elbow.

“Oh, Uncle Dori, don't look at me like that...” Nori laughed, spotting him still frozen on the spot, “Dwalin already _knows_ that I'm Vulpes. We've worked it all out.” Her expression was nearly as worshipful as Dwalin's when she looked up at him.

“Now, where's Taiwo?” Nori asked as she handed the flowers off to be put in a vase of water, “Were you able to deliver Will and Tommy home?”

“Taiwo walked them to their doorsteps and saw them into their mothers arms.” Dwalin answered, “Only for _you_ would I sail into Bristol, you know. Taiwo wanted to spend some time in Port Gorey, but he'll be along in a few days.”

“Good.” Nori smiled, “Now, for the trip around the world I really think we ought to have at least one more ship in our fleet, if not two. I'd suggest a sloop – I favor the Jamaican make, but the Bermudan will do. We'll see what presents itself. Your mate Harris would make a good Captain for her. I'd offer Bifur a ship too, but he always turns me down for it, and Bofur won't sail without him. Taiwo's been coming along nicely, though. If nothing else we could get him a Lorcha once we reach Macau, they're nice ships...”

Dori watched as they wandered off through the garden together, with Nori talking piracy and Dwalin nodding along. That... was certainly unexpected, but he didn't really know what he _had_ expected. His sister's only child had never done _anything_ the normal way.

He would just have to be sure they were married before they ran off to sail the world together. It wouldn't do to have any of his potential _niblings_ be born out of wedlock if they should happen to take each other as lovers out in the wilds of the world. Distance and danger could do strange things to people.

Nori laughed when Dori brought it up. Laughed, sobered, looked him in the eye, then broke into peals of laughter so hard she had to hold to the wall to keep on her feet. She laughed so hard she had tears squeezing out of her eyes.

“I am serious.” Dori huffed. It was not a ridiculous supposition at all, with how attached the two of them were, “I really _must_ insist you post the bans before you leave. For our family, if nothing else, should the unthinkable happen.” It would also please Balin to have his brother finally married. If Nori were known to be at sea with her husband it would answer any of his gentle questioning about _where_ Nori was when not on Sarnay, too.

“It needn't be a very big wedding, I'll plan it all for you.” Dori promised. “Jenny could make your mother's dress over for you, you are of a size.”

“Oh, Dori.” Nori sighed, dabbing at her eyes with a pretty handkerchief, “Never change.” She told him, pressing a kiss to his cheek and sailing into the drawing room to read to Dwalin.

Dori did not wish to intrude, but he watched hidden from the doorway for just a little while. Nori chose a book and sat primly on her chair. Dwalin put a cushion on the floor and sat beside her, resting his head on her lap to be pet like the loyal wolfhound she called him, one hand affectionately wrapped around her pretty boot.

“We have to elope.” Nori told him quietly, “Dori's already planning the wedding and _I'm_ not going to stand up in a white dress in front of everyone.”

Oh, Nori. Dori rolled his eyes. Couldn't abide to do things the respectable way.

“He seems to be worried I'll make you pregnant.” Nori added, a giggle in her voice. Dori crept away to the sound of them both laughing... and it was probably best Dori did not try to think about it too closely. He really did not want to know.

He could just be happy that Nori was happy.

That was what mattered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's that!
> 
> Thank you so much again to asparklethatisblue for inflicting this idea on me, and for her and MJ being there for me when I was flailing around trying to make the plot work.
> 
> And thank you everyone who commented along the way. Your enthusiasm is really what makes writing fun. I hope you enjoyed this fic as much as I enjoyed writing it.
> 
> There may be a few side stories in this 'verse eventually, but first I'm going to take about a week off to decompress and write some original shorts to submit to publishers.  
> And then I might work on the Incubus AU, which has been calling to me.
> 
> Thanks again,  
> <3,  
> -Ts


End file.
